


Virulentus Somnium

by salixbabylon



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-23
Updated: 2007-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salixbabylon/pseuds/salixbabylon
Summary: Two years after graduation, Harry's having nightmares at Hogwarts.  Who will wake him up?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a much-edited and hopefully improved version of my original fic, written in 2002 in the dark ages before OotP, and is now obviously quite AU. Credits go to Nathaniel Hawthorne for "Rappachini's Daughter." The story was definitely influenced by Accio Snape's [Something to Live For](http://www.turn-of-the-page.com/atotp/others/acciosnape/stlf.html) (password needed) and Cybele's [Le Lien des Beaux Reves.](http://snapeff.quasi-evil.net/home/endfest2/archive/lelien.html)

4 AM, Day 1

Harry woke up screaming and with someone shaking his arm. Waking screaming was normal; someone shaking him was extremely unusual.

"Potter, wake up!" an irritated voice demanded, seeming both frustrated and worried simultaneously. A familiar voice.

Harry's eyes struggled to open and he flinched as Snape's face came into semi-focus. "Wh-what?" Harry cleared his throat, sore from the last screams, and pulled up the sheets to cover his chest as he sat up. "What is it? What's going on?"

Snape stood at the foot of Harry's bed, eyeing him with exasperation. "You appear to have had a nightmare," he replied dryly.

Harry blinked, scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment, a final tremor passing through his body. "Um... Yeah," he muttered. "But... Why are you here? I mean, how?"

Snape's brow furrowed as he considered his answer. Finally he settled on nodding at the doorway, where Filch and Mrs. Norris were hovering. "Filch heard you on one of his rounds. I was nearby." He paused. "It sounded as if it was more than a dream," he said ambiguously. "So I broke your locking spells. We came in. I woke you up." He paused for another long moment. "You may want to consider something stronger than a spell that can be broken with _alohomora_."

Harry shrugged, scooting upright even more. "Usually I do. Hooch, Trelawney, and I celebrated the term break a bit excessively last night at the Three Broomsticks," he yawned. "Usually I put up several layers of wards. And silencing spells," he added, before thinking better of it.

Snape raised an eyebrow at that.

Harry didn't notice though, as his body finally started to really wake up, making him aware of a raging headache descending with the wrath of Hungarian Horntail, stomach churning with nausea, and an excruciatingly full bladder. "Excuse me," he mumbled urgently, trying to get out of bed as the room tilted and swam in front of him.

Snape jumped up from the bed, grabbed him by the shoulder, and propelled him to the bathroom. He shut the door as Harry began retching.

"I'm fetching you a hangover potion," Snape called out as he left the bedroom.

Filch was still in the outer doorway, eyeing him with suspicion, obviously wondering why he was being so nice, now that it was clear Harry wasn't being disemboweled by a monster. Snape shot him a freezing glare. "Why are you still here?"

Filch scowled back at him and left, trailing Mrs. Norris behind and muttering.

Snape's rooms were not far off, just a few corridors over. Harry's quarters had been chosen for him by Dumbledore when he began teaching, one of the few dungeon-level rooms with high windows that admitted some natural light. Not coincidentally, the dungeons were also the most well protected part of the castle, a combination of architecture and layers and layers of spells from Slytherins throughout the ages. The passages never shifted but they never needed to as they were purposefully identical, laid out in mazes that only the knowledgeable could navigate. Snape had also often thought that it was no accident that Dumbledore had placed Harry's rooms so close to Snape's; in case of an emergency, Harry would be in close proximity to one of the three most powerful wizards in the castle.

He quickly retrieved a small bottle from his private stores and returned to Harry's rooms. The door was shut, so he knocked, and got a wretched, "What?" groaned at him. Taking that as acquiescence, he entered. Harry was sitting on the bed, wrapped in a dressing gown, face pale, hair still damp from what Snape surmised was a basin bath attempt to recover sobriety.

He handed Harry the potion. "Drink it."

Harry hesitated for a flicker of a moment, then took the bottle and downed it in one gulp, clearly expecting it to taste foul. It didn't though; instead it was a pleasant lime flavor. A shudder passed through him, but this one seemed to take his headache and nausea with it as it left. His only ill feelings now were exhaustion and a sore throat, the usual after-effects of his nightmares. He sighed as he moved further back on the bed and leaned against the headboard.

"Thank you," Harry said after a moment, abruptly realizing that Snape was still there watching him. They looked at each other for a few minutes until Harry looked away. "What?"

Snape sighed, his slightly exasperation clear. "Potter... Harry." he corrected himself; they were supposed to use given names now that Harry was staff. Despite the years of their working together against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and the last year or so as colleagues at Hogwarts, Snape still almost always called him Potter. Although he often thought of him as 'Harry.' Snape filed that observation away to think about later. Harry usually called the other staff by their surnames as well. It had been awkward for everyone, shifting from the role of student to staff in just a few months. He was still so much younger than the rest of the teachers, only nineteen.

Snape cleared his throat and refocused his thoughts. "You mentioned silencing spells. Do you often have nightmares?"

Harry's face flushed with obvious embarrassment that he had let that slip earlier. Why was Snape asking? Sure, their old animosity had long been buried, as Harry grew up and as they worked together fighting the Dark Lord, but they were hardly close. Snape had never asked him anything personal unless out of necessity. He scowled. His dreams were private. They had nothing to do with Snape. Which was why Harry was annoyed to hear himself answering, "Yes. Always," before he'd settled on a reply to the question.

Snape raised an eyebrow at this and seemed to digest it for a few minutes. "Why didn't you ask me for a sleeping potion?" he finally inquired.

Harry huffed in frustration, as humiliation and exhaustion combined. "What, every night? For the last gods-know-how many years?" he snapped, suddenly quite angry. "And why do you care anyway? I'm awake, I'm not ill, and I'm not being attacked. You can go now. I'm sorry I forgot the silencing charm and you were woken up. It won't happen again." He glared at Snape, _Just GO! Leave me alone!_ screaming inside his head,

Snape made no effort to hide his annoyance at Harry's rudeness as he snapped, "Fine, Potter," and left, robes swirling as he stalked out of Harry's rooms and slammed the door behind.

Harry lay down and tried to rest, waiting for the sun to rise. Sometimes, after daylight came, he could sleep without dreaming.

This was not one of those times.

*****

Severus paced back and forth in his sitting room. _Ungrateful twit_ , he thought.

 _Oh, come now,_ a reasonable voice in his head argued. _He had a nightmare as well as a hangover. You broke into his rooms and woke him up. How chipper would you have been in his place?_ It was so irritating when his rigorous self-honesty wouldn't allow him to berate at others, even in his head.

 _He could have been more grateful. I was just trying to help him._ He pondered that a moment.

_And why is that? Why do you care if he has nightmares? Everyone has nightmares._

_Not everyone has them every night. Apparently for years. Apparently bad enough to wake screaming often enough to regularly put up silencing charms..._

_I wonder how many years, when they started. And why has he never asked for sleeping potions._ It was common enough for the other staff to request them from him; there was no shame in it. Everyone had trouble sleeping sometimes, especially in these eventful last few years of the war.

 _Maybe he doesn't know that_ , the reasonable voice responded. _Who would have told him? And he's obviously seen enough of the hospital wing in his time here that he'd rather not ask Poppy; you know he avoids calling attention to himself unless he can't help it._

He growled in exasperation. _So what do I do, then? Drop it? Force sleeping potions on him? He doesn't even look tired._

 _Doesn't he?_ the reasonable voice asked.

 _Hmm... Does he?_ He couldn't really remember. Severus made a mental note to look more closely the next time he saw Harry.

 _And what's with thinking of him as 'Harry' and calling him 'Potter,' anyway?_ asked the voice, changing tactics.

 _Oh, shut up_ , he snapped at himself. _It's a habit from when he was student. It's difficult to remember that he's not._

_But he isn't. He hasn't been for a while now._

Harry had finished his seventh year at Hogwarts, after long years of increasingly frequent battles with the Dark Lord and various Death Eaters, while Voldemort gained strength and supporters and subtly infiltrated every aspect of the wizarding world, in Great Britain and abroad. After Harry graduated, Dumbledore had asked him to stay on at Hogwarts, under the premise of assisting coach the Quidditch teams and tutoring students in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. After the final battle when Voldemort was killed (finally truly thoroughly dead and gone), Harry had been the target of the surviving Death Eaters and had stayed at Hogwarts until they were all captured or killed.

Now, six months after the last one had been thrown into Azkaban... Harry was still at Hogwarts. Coaching and tutoring.

 _So he's not a student. And you've worked together for years against evil. But still... There's always been something between us. Something... awkward. What?_ Severus thought for a while, turning the puzzle over in his mind.

 _I hated his father, but how do I feel about Harry? I don't hate him. Don't dislike him. Don't like him either_ , he added quickly.

 _No?_ asked the inner voice. _If that's how you **don't** feel, then how **do** you feel?_

 _I respect him,_ he grudgingly admitted. _Harry is a strong wizard, very innately powerful, and as he's matured, he's become adept at learning to control that power. He's brave, facing Voldemort so many times, no matter how scared he was. Full of that irritating Gryffindor courage. Innovative, too; he always seems to come up with unique strategies perfect for the emergency at hand. He never gives up. He's loyal. He genuinely cares about people. He's admirable..._

Severus jerked out of his musing. _I **admire** Harry?_

 _Yes, you do,_ said the annoyingly honest voice. _Furthermore, he's not an unattractive young man._

Severus' knees buckled a bit and he lowered himself into a chair. _I am not having that thought_ , he told himself sternly. _Absolutely not. No._

He took a deep breath. _Focus on the problem. Harry has nightmares. I would prefer he did not. There are several options: I can drop the subject entirely..._

 _And fret,_ the internal voice interrupted.

 _OR,_ he continued sternly, _I can corner him and force him to talk. Perhaps get him to take some potions. Or I can try talking to Albus..._

Severus considered that option. Talking to Albus would mean revealing something quite personal about Harry to the other man, something Harry probably didn't want anyone to know. But maybe Albus already knew, if the problem had been going on for several years.

But then it would also reveal that Severus knew. That he was worried. Concerned. About Harry. Severus wasn't sure he wanted to investigate that thought, particularly under Albus' unwavering gaze, which seemed to see into his innermost thoughts. Particularly with these _admiring_ and _attractive_ observations in his head.

He sighed. _I'll just see how he looks at lunch,_ Severus decided. _If he looks tired... then I'll try talking to him and see what happens after that._

*****

Noon, Day 1

_Why am I having this conversation?_ Harry thought. Snape had cornered him after lunch, scowling at him. Harry guessed it was for being so rude the night before. He had grudgingly thanked Snape for the hangover potion and apologized again for Filch having disturbed him.

"I was up and about anyway," Snape had answered.

"At four the morning?" Harry asked skeptically.

Snape had responded with an arched eyebrow, "Do you think you are the only one with troubled dreams, Potter?" in that biting way of his that made Harry's hair stand up on his arms. Thank the gods he wasn't in the man's classes anymore. Their relationship had gotten much better as the years passed, but he didn't enjoy reliving memories of cringing under the Potions Master's sarcasm.

Which brought them to the present moment.

"Everyone has nightmares sometimes," Harry replied despondently. "I just never have any other kinds of dreams," he added before he could stop himself. _Argh! What is with me lately? Answering before I've thought about what I want to say. And to Snape, of all people. Damnit, I'm tired. I mean, the man isn't awful, but... he's hardly the most compassionate person. And he isn't interested in me anyway. No one is,_ he thought bitterly.

Snape raised an eyebrow, seeming to read some of Harry's thoughts. He felt Snape peering closely at the circles under his eyes, which he hadn't been able to fully cover with his usual Glamour spell. They were practically purple and his eyes were so bloodshot they hurt and kept burning and watering. It wasn't so much that he was vain, just that he'd learned in his Seventh year that the Glamour spells stopped the incessant questions about whether he was sleeping well.

"Just leave me alone," Harry sighed, turning to walk out of the Great Hall.

Harry was shocked when Snape grabbed him by the arm to hold him back, and further shocked at the rage that flooded through him as he snarled, "Get your hands off me, **now**!"

He wrenched away from the other man, who looked almost comically taken aback at Harry's response. Harry's few remaining shreds of self-control snapped as he rounded on Snape, eyes blazing. "Don't you ever touch me! Stay away from me! My nightmares aren't your problem; it's not like you care anyway. Just leave me alone!"

Harry turned and ran out of the hall, through the castle, and out onto the grounds, leaving a stunned Snape behind, as well as more than a few puzzled observers.

"Anything you'd care to explain, Severus?" Albus' voice came from just behind Snape.

"No," Snape replied thoughtfully. "I really have no idea what that was about," and he, too, turned and left.

*****

1 PM, Day 1

_Leave me alone, leave me alone, alone, alone alone_ , pounded through Harry's head as his feet pounded down the hall. He ran and ran and ran, down the halls, out the door, across the icy grounds, towards the frozen lake.

He wanted to run all the way through the school gates, through the village of Hogsmeade, and out into the countryside, until he was lost in the wilds of the Scottish highlands. But his rage was overpowered by his exhaustion, and he stumbled and fell before he was even close to the Hogwarts gates. He crawled to a nearby tree and sat leaning against it, trying to catch his breath.

_Pathetic. Thank the gods the Death Eaters are gone or I'd be easy prey. What the fuck just happened?_

He'd completely lost it, yelling at Snape, running away, creating a spectacle. Good thing it was the winter holidays and there were hardly any students around the castle. But the other staff had been nearby; Harry had sensed them. If Dumbledore hadn't actually been there, he'd certainly be informed, and would probably be sending Harry one of his politely worded requests-cum-orders for a little chat over tea.

"Fuck." He couldn't escape. Couldn't even run away. He felt trapped, like he couldn't leave Hogwarts, like he'd been forbidden to go outside the grounds. He took a deep breath and thought, _No, more like can't leave because there's nowhere else to go. Who would take me in? I don't really have any friends._ He thought momentarily of Ron and Hermione.

Harry had been closest to them in school, but after his fourth year, when Cedric died and Voldemort returned, Harry had pulled away from them. After a summer alone with just the Dursley's and his own terror as company, he'd built strong walls to keep anyone from getting too close. He made himself too busy with school and Voldemort to open up to anyone. Too terrified. Too hurt by what he'd seen. Ron and Hermione had still been his friends, his closest friends even, but... well, it wasn't the same. Harry wasn't the same. He wasn't willing to let them get hurt. So he pulled away and never filled the closeness he'd lost with anyone else.

He mentally flipped through a list of the rest of his "friends." He and Hagrid were still friendly of course, but Harry had learned early on that despite his good intentions, Hagrid couldn't keep a secret to save his life. Harry was hardly about to confide his innermost feelings to the giant and then hear them blabbed all over the school.

Dumbledore... Well, he was like a father to Harry, but he wasn't someone Harry could talk to about feelings. Harry had opened up some to Sirius, but he was one of the casualties of the final battles. Harry was eternally grateful to whatever fates there were that he hadn't been present to see that death, or he knew it would haunt him like the others he'd seen. Pain and loss were difficult enough without the guilt of thinking there had to have been a way he could have prevented it.

No, there was no one. There hadn't really been anyone since the year of Voldemort's return. There would never be anyone. He would always be alone. Trapped in his now-pointless life.

A trickle of moisture stung his cheek and he realized it hurt because it was practically frozen. **He** was practically frozen. He'd better get up and go back inside. He cast a quick warming charm on his clothes, re-did the Glamour spell to hide the circles under his eyes hoping it would work better this time, and dragged himself back to the castle.

*****

11 PM, Day 1

"Trying to freeze yourself again, Potter?" a quiet voice inquired from the doorway of the Astronomy Tower. Harry wasn't surprised, truly; he knew Snape wouldn't let the matter drop. He hadn't really expected him to seek him out that same night, but he knew it would happen eventually.

"Why won't you just let it go, Snape?" Harry was far too tired at this point to even try and think through what he said before he opened his mouth. Too tired for anger. Just too tired...

Which was why he'd come up here. It was cold, and the stars were peaceful. The stars were all alone too, separated from each other by hundreds of light years, but they didn't seem lonely. When he looked at them he could briefly not think about anything, and while that wasn't as good as actual sleep, it was a hell of a lot better than nightmares.

Snape sat down next to him, looking out the open window. Harry had learned over the years of working together that Snape didn't talk much unless it was necessary. He wasn't one for small talk, preferring bitter sarcasm, stinging insights, and difficult questions. The very, **very** rare word that could be construed as praise. Unless there was a problem at hand, Snape tended to not say much of anything. Harry supposed that he and his dreams were now the problem.

"May I start a fire?" Snape asked, surprising Harry.

He shrugged his indifference and Snape pointed his wand at the fireplace.

His former professor took a deep breath. "I won't 'just let it go' as you put it, because I'm concerned." He paused before continuing carefully, "When you returned to the castle after your walk this afternoon... Well, maybe you were too, er, overwrought to cast it properly, but the Glamour charm failed completely."

Harry could feel his cheeks burn. No one had ever found out about the Glamours before, or if they had, they'd had the good manners to not mention it.

Snape continued. "You look horrible. You can't not sleep forever, Harry. You can't go through life having nightmares like that forever. I don't know how you have gone on for so long, judging by the bruises under your eyes; they're practically black. Let me give you a sleeping draught, a dreamless one."

Harry closed his eyes, letting his cool lids soothe their burning; that was one reason why he liked to be cold. His hand slid under his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I'm too tired to argue. Someday though, you're going to tell me why you're bothering. Not tonight. Tomorrow," he clarified as he got to his feet.

Snape put out the fire and they walked together through the castle and down to his rooms. Harry stood a polite distance away while Snape murmured his password then entered his sitting room. Snape crossed to the office, heading towards locked cupboards while Harry waited. He sank down into a chair by the fireplace, closing his eyes.

"Here," offered Snape, jerking Harry out of the first stirrings of sleep. "Drink this. It will give you about twelve hours of dreamless sleep."

Harry hesitated.

"I promise. Dreamless. And if it works well, you can have more again for up to four nights in a row without any ill effects."

A half-smile quirked Harry's mouth for a moment, as he raised the glass and drank deeply. "Thank you," he said as he got up and made for the door. He walked into the corridor, which started to swim a little; whether from his sleep deprived vision or the potion beginning to take effect, he wasn't sure. Snape appeared by his side, wordlessly escorting Harry into his own quarters.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled again, as Snape helped him off with robe and shoes, and got him into bed. He was asleep before he heard the door close.


	2. Chapter 2

Noon, Day 2

Harry woke up exactly twelve hours later in the infirmary; he would know that smell anywhere. Before his breathing changed, before he opened his eyes, he tried figure out in what way he was damaged. His face and palms of his hands burned like they'd been eaten away by acid and were bandaged. The next fully conscious breath he took hurt so much it brought tears to his eyes; he would have whimpered if his throat didn't feel as if someone had take a knife to it from the inside. His head throbbed and his body hurt everywhere, but a general ache, not any specific pain. 

He realized the foot of the bed was sunken and that someone was sitting on it. 

Harry opened his eyes, relatively certain whom he would see. Snape's fuzzy image came into as much focus as was possible without his glasses. _Apparently not a dreamless sleep after all_ , Harry thought. 

Unfortunately his involuntary scowl at this thought hurt his face, which made him wince, which hurt his face even more, which made him groan, which hurt his throat so much he almost blacked out from the pain. He felt his glasses being carefully placed on his face and when he opened his eyes to glare in outrage at Snape he was surprised to see the older man look both haggard and... contrite?

"I am sorry," Snape said in a quite, tense voice. "I don't understand how the potion could fail to work, but I'm so sorry I made you take it." He turned to the nightstand, clearing his throat, and came back with a goblet. "You screamed until your throat bled. Now that you're awake, you can swallow this, though. It should help. I hope," he added with an uncertainty Harry had never heard in the Potions Master's voice before. 

He decided to think about that later, as Snape brought the glass to his lips and he opened his mouth to drink. The liquid flowed over his throat and cooled it, soothing the raw flesh like a thin layer of cold silvery honey, and although he swallowed, it stayed on his throat, easing the pain.

He savored the feeling for a moment, then looked up at Snape again. "What happened?" Harry managed to whisper, barely louder than a breath, the words still rasping his throat. 

As Snape started to answer, the Infirmary doors opened and Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster burst in.

"Oh good, he's awake now," exclaimed Madam Pomfrey as she rushed over. With flick of her wand, the bandages on his hands and face disappeared, and she applied more of a sticky green salve before conjuring fresh wrappings. "Has he taken the potion for his throat, Severus?" she asked. 

Snape nodded, looking at his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

"You might want to make him another one for later," she suggested. "He can take it after he gets some, er, rest," she finished awkwardly.

Snape nodded. Harry tried to smile a little to thank her while Dumbledore said, "Thank you, Poppy," in that way of his that was clearly a polite dismissal. As she left, Dumbledore pulled a chair up to the bed and asked Snape, "Have you told him yet?"

"No, he just woke up," Snape replied. "I gave him the potion. He asked what happened. You came in before I had a chance to answer." Harry had never heard the professor sound so cowed.

Dumbledore too seemed a bit surprised at Snape's tone, but he continued after a moment, turning to Harry. "Well, my boy, you've had us all worried once again. It seems Severus gave you a twelve-hour dreamless sleeping draught. Which promptly knocked you out for twelve hours in quite a thorough manner. Unfortunately, the dreamless component seems to have not worked for some indeterminable reason." He reached over and patted Snape's hands. "I doubt you could have made an error with the potion, Severus. I suspect there's more to this than a simple mistake."

Turning back to Harry, he continued. "About an hour after Severus escorted you to your quarters, you began screaming so loudly that the echoes from the dungeon roused almost the whole castle. By the time we got into your rooms, you had hurt your face and hands rather badly with your fingernails. Since you were asleep and not responding in the usual way to a magical potion, we were hesitant to give you any other potions. You were struggling so much you might have choked on it anyway." Dumbledore paused.

"We couldn't wake you. The only thing we could think of to do to stop your dreams was cast a temporary memory charm to make you forget everything about yourself. I apologize, Harry; memory charms are quite invasive, but it was an emergency and seemed to be the only way to stop you from hurting yourself further." An anxious look crept across the old man's face. "It was only temporary; I presume that it's worn off now that you're awake? You know who you are and where you are?"

Harry thought for a moment. Of course he knew who he was: Harry Potter, infamous and miserable Boy Who Lived. He was at Hogwarts. He even remembered drinking the sleeping potion in Snape's rooms. He nodded. 

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. You can rest for a bit longer and you should be as good as new by tomorrow."

The headmaster got up and walked to the door, turning to add, "Oh, and Severus - no one thinks you made a mistake on the potion. While not impossible, that option is so unlikely as to not be worth considering. This was not your fault at all." 

Snape shook his head as the door closed. "I am sorry, Harry," he said again. It was not lost on either of them that Snape apologizing was a highly rare occurrence. He continued, "I'm sorry about the potion, I'm sorry about pressuring you to take it, I'm sorry I didn't get to your rooms quickly enough to stop you from hurting yourself. And... despite Albus' purposeful use of the plural 'we,' **I** am the only one who knew a temporary memory charm. I cast it."

Harry was puzzled; the charm had stopped his horrific dreams so why was it such a big deal? 

Snape surprised Harry by seeming to read his thoughts, "Memory charms, while not technically among the Unforgivable curses, are just this side of _Imperius_. To tamper with another person's memory is quite dangerous, as well as highly unethical. Something could have gone wrong; you could have forgotten everything. Permanently. We were so worried that nothing magical was going to work properly on you," he finished, passing one hand across his face.

Harry was so taken aback by the distress in the man's expression that all he could do was blink. Snape looked like he'd spent hours fretting and Harry rightly guessed that he had blamed himself for everything. He started to whisper an acceptance of the apology, but thought better of his throat and carefully reached out a bandaged hand to cover Snape's instead. He managed a slight upturned corned of his mouth that would have been a smile if it hadn't hurt so unbearably.

"Yes, don't speak," said Snape. "Wait until after the next dose; give the flesh some time to heal. Now I suppose you won't want to actually sleep," he said, some of his usual sarcasm creeping back, "so perhaps I'll fetch you something to read?" 

Harry nodded his agreement as Snape left the room. He returned after a short while with some magazines and newspapers and several thick, dusty books.

"I hope you won't mind if I stay here?" Snape inquired. "I thought I might look through some books and start trying to discern what's going on. Of course, if you'd rather, I can do this elsewhere." 

Harry was only a bit surprised to find himself nodding and gesturing at the chair for Snape to stay.

*****

3 PM, Day 2

 _Odd_ , Harry thought a few hours later. "International Quidditch Monthly" lay open and unread in his lap. _I actually don't mind that he's here. In fact, I'd rather he be here than be alone. I'm not..._ he fumbled for a few moments, trying to pin down his feelings. _I'm not afraid. With him here. Afraid of falling asleep. Of dreaming._

 _Weird. I was so bloody angry with him this afternoon. No, yesterday afternoon,_ he remembered; he had been out for half a day. _I suppose I wasn't really angry with him, though. Just **so** tired. _

_And embarrassed_ , he admitted. _Embarrassed that someone found out and that it had to be Snape, of all people._

_But why is he still here? Why is he getting involved in this? Why does he act like he... **cares**? No one cares about me. I've saved the wizarding world; my duties are finished. Now I can just disappear and no one has even noticed. _

Harry closed his eyes. Fuck - this train of thought was so exhausting, so familiar. Never any variation, just feelings of overwhelming futility, loneliness, isolation. Why did he even bother to continue existing? Why hadn't he jumped from the top of the Astronomy Tower by now? He'd thought about it often enough, almost daily in fact. His entire life had been focused on defeating Voldemort and cleaning up the mess the Death Eaters had made of the world. Finally the good guys had won, but there was no real sense of lasting victory for Harry. What was he supposed to do with his life now? 

_A life alone_ , he reminded himself. _Never forget that you'll always be alone._

He was too injured and weary to resist the waves of self-pity that washed over him, the helplessness and melancholy. _Alone. No friends. No one who cares about me as anything beyond a savior or an icon. A symbol of the Light overcoming the Dark, of survival. No one really sees me as a person. Certainly no one **loves** me. Ever. _

_And no one ever will. How could they? I'm not a real person to anyone, just a focal point for everyone's hopes. I'm completely worthless now._

_My entire life was defined as fighting Voldemort. And now that's over. I'm nothing. How could anyone want me?_

_And even if someone **did** want me, **could** want me, they'd be a target for whoever decides to come after me next. It's better this way,_ he tried to convince himself. _Then no one will get hurt and die. Because then I'd be even more alone._ Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice as a tear of misery slid out from the corner of his eye to the bandage on his cheek.

Snape noticed, however. He slammed the heavy book he was reading closed, thoughtfully turning away from Harry so that he could recover from whatever anguishing thoughts he was having. 

"It's time for more of that potion for your throat," he said, retrieving the bottle. "Then I have some questions for you, if you're up to them. I've come across a few possibilities, but I need more information from you to narrow them down."

Harry drank the potion, savoring the cool soothing feeling. He tentatively cleared his throat, making small noises, testing to see how much it still hurt. Not too badly. "What do you need to know?" he asked. "And can I take off these bandages yet?"

"I can't see why not," Snape replied, waving his wand. The bandages disappeared from Harry's face and hands. The skin was still red and tender looking, but otherwise mostly healed. "I trust you'll leave your skin alone and not try to use any Glamour spells? That will just make it take longer to heal."

Harry sighed. "I just... It's not that I'm vain," he blurted. "I just, well, got really tired of everyone asking if I was ok all of the time. If I was sleeping well. **Why** I wasn't sleeping well. I just... didn't want to attract so much attention to it," he finished lamely.

"I'm sorry to say but attention has been attracted," Snape said in a dry voice. "I can't believe you've gone on for so long without coming to anyone for help. What were you thinking? You can't possibly have been in a fit state of mind for most of the battles with the Dark Lord or his followers. When did all of this start?" he accused.

"I wasn't **that** careless," retorted Harry, green eyes flashing with old anger. "I've had nothing but nightmares for years, but it's only been the last few months that I've also felt tired all the time. Like even though I'm sleeping, I'm not **resting** at all. And we won the battles anyway, so what bloody difference does it make?"

"Fine." Snape took a deep breath, obviously mastering his irritation, and then continued. "Let's try to focus on one thing at a time. You say you've had nightmares for years – when did they begin? When exactly did they get worse?"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember. "I guess it would have been in my fifth year here... I mean, I'd always had nightmares and the summer after Voldemort returned and Cedric died, well, I had a lot of them. But sometime my fifth year, they changed, somehow. Got worse. I always woke up screaming or with my friends shaking me awake. Until I started putting up Silencing charms every night." 

He snorted, a brief, bitter smirk crossing his face. "And not for the same reasons as the other boys. Anyway. They got a lot worse after I killed Lucius Malfoy. So, that would be about five months ago. That's the last time I remember not feeling crushingly tired. And..." he hesitated a moment, "that's when I started having to use the Glamour spell every day to conceal how tired I looked, instead of just sometimes."

Snape listened to this recital as if he had expected it. Most of the facts pointed to one solution. "It sounds as if someone planted a curse in your subconscious. But that still doesn't explain why the Dreamless Sleep potion didn't work." He hesitated, then asked quickly, "Harry, what are your nightmares about? I know that's a quite personal question but I think the answer is in the content or nature of the dreams themselves." Snape paused again, adding, "Of course you can rely upon my discretion."

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I trust you." He seemed just as surprised as Snape to hear the words come out his mouth. "I dream about..." He paused. "They're mostly dreams of..." He choked. _Deep breath. Just say it. Come on, relax_. 

Frustrated now, he started over, "My nightmares are about..." and trailed off again as hs mind clouded over with confusion. Only looking at Snape's expectant face make him remember what he was saying.

"Gods, I'm trying! I can't get the words out. I can't..." He made an exasperated noise. "It's like the harder I try to put it into words, the more I forget what the dreams are about." He raised his eyes in frustrated confusion to Snape, who held his gaze for a long moment, assessing.

"The harder you try to voice your dreams, the more you are unable to speak and you forget what they're about?" he confirmed. 

Harry nodded. 

"Have you ever tried to tell anyone about your dreams before?" 

Harry thought for a moment and nodded again. "Once. In school. Ron." He remembered Ron waking him up, shaking him, face pale with concern, asking Harry what he was dreaming. He hadn't been able to tell him. "The same thing happened."

"Definitely a curse then," Snape said with some satisfaction. "Probably with a secrecy or shame component to make you unable to tell anyone about it." He sighed. "What are you going to do, Harry? You must sleep sometime. Do you think you can?"

Misery returned to Harry's expression. He was exhausted, more so than usual. His body hurt, his skin hurt, his eyes and throat still felt raw. 

"I know you're right," he said in a small voice. "But... I don't know what to do," he admitted. "Sometimes, once the sun is up, I can sleep some, but..." He looked down at the scratches healing on his hands and whispered, "I'm afraid." The difficulty in speaking, the shame and amount it cost his pride to admit this, were written all over his face. He seemed to be trying to force himself to say something more when Snape interrupted.

"Would you like me to stay with you? I'll wake you up if you become restless. I can read just as comfortably in your room as in the library."

Harry sighed with relief at Snape's proposal. "Yes. Please." He was so grateful it almost hurt. _It's like he's reading my thoughts. Am I that transparent? Or does he just know me that well? I guess I've known him my whole life, practically, but now, today, everything just feels different. Comfortable. It's nice. He acts like..._ Harry swallowed at the thought. _He acts like he likes taking care of me. Like he worries about me. Like he actually **likes** me, maybe? _

He turned this idea over in his head a few times. _Snape likes me. As a person. And..._ the words slowly came together, _...it feels nice. I like him._

_I like him? I like Snape?_

_Hm... I do. He's been pretty helpful, once we started working on the same side. He's been looking after me since I was a kid. And... I like it. I feel safe with him. I trust him._

Madame Pomfrey's appearance interrupted Harry's startling revelations to cast some more healing spells on Harry's face and hands before releasing him into Snape's care with orders to get some sleep, somehow. 

The two men walked down the corridors, to the dungeons and to Harry's chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

9 PM, Day 2

As Harry got prepared for bed, Severus looked around his rooms, surprised at how sterile they were. He had expected more clutter - photos of friends, maybe Quidditch memorabilia, personal things - but the rooms were as bare as they had probably been when Harry moved in almost two years ago.

 _Odd_ , Severus thought. _Doesn't he have any mementos of his school days? I know he doesn't see his friends often..._

Then again, he recalled how Harry had grown apart from his schoolmates, even Ron and Hermione eventually, and had spent most of his last years at school at a distance from the others.

"I'm ready," Harry called from the bedroom, interrupting Severus' train of thought.

He entered the bedroom, briefly raising an eyebrow as Harry slipped between the blankets wearing flannel boxers. _Is he **blushing**? He's hardly indecent and I'm not the first to see him undressed._

Severus levitated a chair from the living room into the bedroom, and settled into it, opening a book.

As Harry's breathing evened out and he stopped fidgeting, Severus' thoughts kept turning from his book to Harry's blush.

 _He lived in a boarding school since he was eleven, for heaven's sake. It's not like he ever got any privacy_.

Suddenly he recalled the bitterness in Harry's voice referring to the other boys' use of Silencing charms and found himself in the novel position of speculating about his former student's sexual life. _Is he that much of a prude? Or just embarrassed by the thought of his friends masturbating? Or is it sex in general?_

 _Hmm... I never saw Harry with any girls, or heard any rumors about him dating. Nor about him with any boys either_ , he thought after a moment, _despite the speculation that there may have been more to the tension between Harry and Draco Malfoy than simply hatred. Maybe he's just a late bloomer? Or one of the few to be successfully discreet in such a small school? Or...?_

Severus' thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a soft moan from Harry. He got up and went to the bed. Harry's face was flushed and he appeared to be breathing fast. Severus hesitated to wake him as he didn't really seem to be having a bad dream, so he turned to go back his chair.

Behind him, Harry let out another moan, this one louder and quite clearly of a sensual nature. Severus felt his face grow hot with amused embarrassment, but it was nothing to the feeling that flared through his body when he turned back to look at the young man and couldn't avoid noticing the tent growing in the blankets.

He quickly went back to his chair and sat down, face burning, pulse throbbing with... what? Embarrassment? Arousal? He shivered as Harry moaned again and shifted restlessly, now breathing audibly, almost panting.

 _Get a grip, man_ , he ordered himself. _So the boy's having a sex dream. Hardly an unusual experience for a nineteen year old._

_I wonder who it's about._

_No, I do not!_ he yelled at himself. _Stop that. Take a deep breath and calm down. I should **not** be having these thoughts about him. He's..._

 _Not a student anymore_ piped up that annoying inner voice of reason.

 _But he **was** my student and he is still quite young. And I am a dirty old lech, sitting here, trying to ignore my own erection, trying not to think about what his body looks like under those blankets, who he's dreaming about, what he's dreaming of doing to them. These are private dreams_.

Harry's mouth opened, breath coming in sharp gasps now. The sounds were raw and erotic and Severus' body was responding in a way that would soon have him in the same state.

 _I should just leave him to it. At least he's not having a nightmare_.

He got up and left the bedroom, with the idea of pacing back and forth across the sitting room until his lower body stopped throbbing and Harry's dream was finished. As he crossed the doorway, Harry released a scream of sheer terror.

In an instant, Severus rushed back to the bed, embracing Harry's shaking body in his arms and soothing him as he was overcome with bone-wrenching sobs.

*****

Holding the trembling young man in his arms, Severus found himself surprised at how easy and natural it felt. He hadn't hesitated for a moment before rushing to Harry and taking him in his arms. One hand was gently stroking Harry's back, and he was shocked to hear himself murmuring comforting nothings like "It was just a dream" and "It's all right; I'm here." When the bloody hell had he developed a nurturing side? He pulled away, suddenly awkward.

Harry reached for a drink of water from the night table. "Sorry," he whispered, having got himself more under control.

Severus waited as Harry took another drink. "There's no need for an apology. Might you be able to tell me what the dream was about, though?" He was suddenly quite suspicious that what had seemed to be a sexual dream had turned so rapidly into a nightmare. Even allowing for the surreal way time worked in dreams, it was still a bit uncanny.

Harry tried to speak but seemed unable to get any words out. After a few attempts he simply shook his head and lay back onto the pillow.

 _Poor boy; he's exhausted_ said a voice in Severus' head that sounded suspiciously like Poppy's.

"Harry," he said hesitantly, "I do have one idea that might work. One of the books about dream curses suggests that the use of a potion which causes shared dreaming may be of help to the cursed dreamer. Two people take variations of the same potion and must share the same pillow as they sleep. Both of them will then dream the same thing." Harry looked interested, so he continued. "I had thought it might be useful if you continue to be unable to talk about your dreams; perhaps someone could share them with you instead."

Harry's eyebrows shot so far up his forehead that they disappeared under his messy hair.

"However, we can discuss that possibility tomorrow. Tonight I think it essential for you to get some sleep. Perhaps if **you** shared someone else's dreams, you could find some much needed rest."

Harry looked skeptical. Severus himself was not entirely convinced that it would work; whatever curse Voldemort or one of his followers had hexed Harry with had outlived all of them, which gave a quite alarming indication of its strength.

"But who would take the other potion?" asked Harry, hesitantly meeting his eyes.

Severus held his gaze for several minutes before he answered. "I would. If you wished."

His inner voice was stunned into silence, for once.

"You would be willing to do that?"

"Yes. I believe it has a good chance of success," Severus answered. "I believe I can also concoct a mild sedative, which should prevent **me** from having any unpleasant dreams. Just as a precaution."

_And since I have nothing but unpleasant dreams, it should result in a night of essentially dreamless sleep for us both. And not compromise my privacy either._

Harry waited a moment, then replied, "If you're sure, then... yes. Let's try it." So much gratitude came through in his voice that Severus was touched despite himself.

He smiled at Harry, an honest genuine smile. "Get dressed then. We'll go to the Potions classroom and get started. The potions will probably take a few hours and I'll need your help."

Harry returned his smile. "Don't worry, I promise I'll do a better job than when I was your student. Believe it or not, I've learned a few things since then."

*****

11 PM, Day 2

_It's amazing how he gets all caught up in this_ , Harry mused to himself as he watched Snape work. _Like everything else fades to the background. He really loves this stuff. No wonder he gets so irritated with his students._

Harry sat on a stool across the large work table in front of the classroom. He and Snape had been there for at least an hour, Harry fetching items upon demand, chopping, and watching. Mostly watching, as Snape became more and more absorbed in his work. He had made the base potion first and set it aside to cool while he worked on the two individual parts that would be added to his dose and Harry's respectively.

 _Such sure hands_ , Harry noted as he watched Snape mince a valerian root with a sharp knife. _So strong. Effortless movements. Long, delicate fingers... Very nice hands_... Harry's gaze wandered up Snape's arms. _Almost priestly, in those austere black robes. He'd laugh to hear that. Well, snort anyway. Not sure I've really seen him laugh. Although he did smile, in my room. At me. A real smile, not a smirk. It was... lovely. Made him look good. Younger. Less bitter. Smoothed out the furrows in his forehead, made his deep, dark eyes brighter..._

Harry was amused and a bit surprised to catch himself staring at Snape, superimposing his memory of that smile back onto the man concentrating in front of him.

_I liked how he looked when he smiled. I like the way he looks now, even not smiling. Studious. Intense. Mysterious. Not quite touchable, aloof. But not ugly or mean, like I thought when I was a kid. Just, well, handsomely mysterious._

_Handsome? God, next I'll be thinking he's sexy!_ Harry felt his cheeks start to flush.

 _Well, perhaps..._ , he thought, chewing his bottom lip. _There's just something about him..._

"If you're quite done staring at me, Mr. Potter, I wonder if you might be persuaded to go fetch some skullcap and mugwort from the storeroom?" Snape interrupted, with poorly concealed amusement.

Harry jumped, practically falling off the stool in his embarrassment as he ran to the store room for the ingredients.

_Shit! Bad enough to be thinking such things, about Snape of all people, but to be caught at it... He'll tease and torment me forever. Why do these things always happen to me? Why can't I just have a normal life?_

_All right, calm down. He saw you staring, he didn't read your mind thinking about how he looks._

_No, but he's been doing an amazing job of reading my thoughts lately; I wouldn't put it past him to have some idea about this as well. I must be so transparent..._

Harry returned to the table with the herbs and Snape instructed him to begin grinding them together with a mortar and pestle. When he was finished, Snape added a pinch of the powdered herbs to each of the two crystal goblets he had already prepared with the rest of the potion. The herbs fizzled and disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke and the liquid turned a deep indigo.

"For the final ingredients we need something from each of us. As the dream-sharer, your glass needs one eyelash from each of your upper lids, untouched by you. As the dreamer, my glass needs the same plus two of my hairs from the nape of the neck."

Harry blinked at him.

"Come here, then, and take off your spectacles."

Harry walked over to Snape's side of the table and removed his glasses.

Snape moved closer and took Harry's face in his hands.

 _Smooth, warm hands_ , Harry thought as his pulse quickened. He looked up into dark eyes and felt like he was seeing them for the first time, deep and hinting at unchartable depths and hidden secrets. He closed his eyes as Snape reached towards them and felt hands, surprisingly gentle, touching his eyelid with warm fingers. A twinge of pain followed as Snape pulled out one single lash with a pair of tweezers.

Harry tried not to flinch but couldn't stop the involuntary reaction as his eye filled with water. Snape must have noticed, because his fingertip gently traced the eyelid and soothed away both the sting and the moisture. The other eye received the same treatment.

Harry realized he was holding his breath and could feel Snape's body, not touching him, but just barely an inch away. Snape was still touching his face and hadn't drawn back. _Feels nice... I wonder why he hasn't moved?_

He opened his eyes to find Snape staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Clearing his throat, Snape stepped back. "All right then." He carefully dropped the lashes into Harry's cup, where they dissolved soundlessly and the liquid turned even darker. "Your turn," he said, sitting down so Harry could reach him more easily.

Harry took a slow breath to try and steady himself, wiping sweating hands on his robes as he drew closer. Snape's eyes were already closed and Harry wondered if the dim lighting in the room was responsible for the color starting to stain his cheeks.

He reached out a shaking hand and laid it gently on Snape's cheekbone, turning his face. He took up the tweezers and held down the eyelid with one finger as Snape had done as he pulled out a lash. Snape didn't flinch at all but his eye watered, too. Again mimicking what Snape had done to him, Harry lightly traced his eyelashes, soothing and wiping away the tear.

When he had finished the other eye, Harry turned from the plate where he had carefully laid the lashes to see Snape looking at him again. He couldn't read Snape's expression at all and his insides began to feel like they were shaking as much as his hands were.

He cleared his throat, then murmured, "Turn around." He was surprised at how compliantly his order was followed. Harry touched the back of Snape's head, bending it forward as his fingers stroked through the silky black strands. _Not greasy at all - smooth, silky, dark, and thick. Like midnight, like ink, no wonder it looks wet..._

Harry's fingers combed through the hair, down to the nape of Snape's neck, caught up in the sensation. They both shivered as his fingertips met flesh, and Harry forced himself to focus. He separated two strands of hair, followed them to the root, and quickly pulled.

Neither of them said a word as Snape took the hair and lashes and added them to his goblet. The lashes fizzed but the hairs seemed to thicken and melt into the potion, turning it a brilliant purple. They both stared at the goblets for a long moment.

"The sedative is in my room," said Snape. "My bed is, er, larger than yours. I think we should sleep in there."

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I don't know how quickly this potion takes effect; it would be safest to be ready for bed and drink it just before lying down," Snape added.

Harry nodded his agreement again.

“So... we should go get changed,” Snape finished somewhat awkwardly. He took both goblets and swept out of the classroom towards his chambers, Harry trailing behind.

*****

 

 

1 AM, Day 3

The clock in Snape's living room was striking one in the morning as Harry knocked at the door, awkward in his boxers, t-shirt, and bathrobe. Snape also seemed a bit uncomfortable in his pajamas and dressing gown. The tension grew as they walked wordlessly into Snape's bedroom, each to opposite sides of the large four-poster bed with gauzy green silk hangings. Harry tried not to feel self-conscious as he took off his robe; there was nothing revealing about what he was wearing. Still, he was having a difficult time trying not to think about being in bed with Snape, of all people, and sleeping closely enough to share a pillow with him.

"It **is** bigger than mine."

It was a moment before Harry realized he'd said those words out loud, just as Snape was taking off his dressing gown, and the skin all over Harry's body almost burst into flame with the fury of his embarrassment. Snape's eyes rounded until he looked almost like a house elf, a slight flush coloring his cheeks as well.

Harry stuttered, "I mean the **bed** , the pillows!"

Snape blinked a few times, clearing his throat. "Ah. Yes. It, they, are." Both men studiously kept their eyes focused on the bed and refused to even glance at the other.

"Well, er..." Snape took a deep breath. "If you're ready then, we should just get started."

He actually blushed a bit at his unintentional double entendre, but Harry missed it, too focused on his own embarrassment. Harry nodded and took his goblet, darting his eyes at Snape to see that he had his, and they both drank their potions at the same time.

Clumsily, hesitantly, they got into bed, trying hard not to look at each other. Harry could feel himself shaking inside, unsure if it was from the potion or nerves. He lay down with as much of his body on his side of the bed as possible, angled with his head on just the corner of the pillow.

After a few moments, Snape whispered in a dry voice, "It's important that your head **stay** on the pillow all night, Mr. Potter. I suggest you move closer; I don't bite."

Harry flinched at Snape's tone of voice, flooded with old feelings of humiliation as a student in the Potions classroom. He scooted fractionally closer.

_Of course he can tell how uncomfortable you are, you bloody idiot! He can probably **hear** how fast your heart is beating! He just wants the spell to work, not to be close to you. He doesn't like you; he'd surely make fun of you if he knew this was the first time you'd ever been in bed with someone else, even just to sleep. I bet he can tell. He knows you were looking at him in the classroom. He knows what you were thinking. I bet he knows you're gay. I bet he can tell you're a virgin. He's probably laughing to himself right now, at how awkward you are, how pathetic you are, "Poor Potter, such a disappointment, such a loser that no one ever even kissed him. So worthless--"_

"Harry?"

Snape's questioning voice interrupted the hateful chorus screaming in Harry's head, expertly ripping him into a million tiny wretched pieces.

"Are you all right?" Snape rolled over onto his side, facing Harry with a puzzled expression. "I know this is... Well, highly unpleasant for you, but you're as stiff as board. Relax. I promise, you won't have nightmares. I don't see any possible way this combination of potions could fail."

Harry took a deep breath. He unclenched his hands and unscrewed his eyes, looking up into Snape's concerned face. He felt something inside him release bit and the internal chorus faded away to a whisper. "I know. I trust you. I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Snape lay back down. "Don't be sorry, just go to sleep," he ordered. "And Harry?" He cautiously reached out for Harry's clammy hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Sleep well."

Harry's hand tingled as the warmth from Snape's touch traveled up his arm and spread through his whole body. He had a lot of thoughts swirling through his head - how he had felt with Snape in the Potions classroom tonight, how scared he was that the other man would know his darkest secrets, the confusing way he seemed so concerned and caring one moment and his old sarcastic self the next, saying that Harry must find it unpleasant to be in bed with him, and finally that gentle touch of his hand...

But sleep began to pull at him, taking him away from a world of confusion and fear and loneliness. After a brief struggle, Harry submitted and was deeply asleep in minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

10 AM, Day 3

Several hours later the light seeping in through the dungeon windows dappled the two sleepers. Both had shifted as the night passed, the smaller figure now wrapped around the larger one.

Images began to float through Harry's consciousness, the first to enter his sleeping mind since he drank the potion. Vague, unfocused images, more sense-feelings than visual pictures, feelings of warm skin, a hot mouth on his neck, a tongue licking gently at his lips, his body melting and warming with desire. The images began to tumble together in his mind, faster and faster - hands holding him close, skin against his own, a body pressing into his.

Still asleep, Harry shifted in the bed, closer to the body in his arms, burrowing his face between shoulder blades, tucking his knees up into firm thighs, shifting his erection into the warm backside, wrapping his arms around a lean chest. He breathed in the other's scent, the images seeming both more real and yet somehow slipping away from him. As the man in his arms shifted in his embrace, Harry began to wake up.

Slowly he realized that parts of the dream were still continuing; there actually **was** a warm body in his arms, pressed up against him, and his body was heavy with sleep but throbbing with arousal.

 _The potion worked. I didn't have bad dreams._ It suddenly occurred to Harry that it was Snape he was holding. _Wow, I should move. But he's still asleep. Is he having that dream?_ Sensual images flashed through his mind again. _About another man? I should move... But I don't want to._

Harry relaxed back into a semi-dreaming state, relishing the novelty of holding someone and of having sexual feelings that weren't overwhelmed with guilt. Snape shifted in his embrace again, pushing against Harry's erection, waking him entirely.

_Shit! What if he wakes up and feels it? What if he knows I saw part of his dream? What if-_

Harry's worries were cut short by a low, deep moan - the single most erotic noise he had ever heard. From Snape, who was clearly still asleep.

Harry froze, listening with fascination as the other man's breathing quickened and Snape began to just barely rock his hips back against Harry's cock. Slowly Snape reached up and tugged at the hand that Harry was resting on his chest. Harry didn't know what to think at all when Snape moved that hand down to his stomach, between his thighs, and wrapped Harry's now sweating fingers around Snape's erection. Holding Harry's hand under his, Snape began to move them together, stroking his cock rapidly until he let out a choked groan and saturated their combined grasp with his climax.

Snape shuddered and sighed with deep satisfaction, then let go of Harry's hand and rolled over onto his stomach.

Still asleep.

Harry was most definitely awake.

*****

Severus woke up with his face pressed into the pillow, an unusual feeling of lassitude and contentment spreading throughout his body. _Mmm... I haven't slept so well in years,_ he thought as he stretched. _Pleasant dreams, relaxed body, the whole thing. The combined potions seem to have been a success._

_Potion... Wait - I wasn't meant to be dreaming, pleasant or otherwise. And where is Harry?_

He cautiously sent one hand out to feel for the other body that should have been there, but encountered nothing; he seemed to be alone in the bed. He relaxed back into the curious feeling of... Satiation? It began to occur to him that he felt exceptionally wonderful, more so than perhaps a decent night's sleep once a decade would account for.

Pleasant dreams? About what? He tried to remember. A few vague images floated through his head. Vague but undeniably sexual. _Fuck. Was Harry still sharing my dreams at that point? Where is he anyway?_

Making matters worse, as Severus shifted around to roll over the rest of his body came fully awake and passed on the information that his pants seemed surprisingly moist. His full bladder eliminated one possibility while a vivid flash of his dreams suggested another. Combined with the wonderful sensation still pervading his body (although rapidly being obliterated with each passing second of panic), his brain came to a conclusion.

_Oh bloody buggering fuck. No. This can't be happening. This can't have happened. I'm not a hormonal teenager! It's been years since I had sex, but... Is it even possible for a grown man to have a wet dream?_

He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, as bits of the dream flashed through his mind.

_It seemed **so** real. Like there really was someone touching me, holding me. I know it was just a dream, but... I can still feel it, a warm spot on my chest where someone's hand rested._

_And where the hell is Harry? Was he here during all of this? Did he share that dream? Was he still in bed with me?_

Severus wanted to call out for Harry and see where he was, but thought better of it. _Best get out of bed and cleaned up first. And then what? Pretend nothing happened?_

He carefully opened his eyes as he rolled over, half expecting Harry to be sitting there watching him. The panic in his blood was turning into hopes of not getting caught as he silently slid out of bed and darted into the bathroom, grabbing his wand and murmuring a spell to clean the sheets as he went.

 _What am I going to do?_ he thought, stepping into the shower. _What can I do? "Excuse me Harry, did you happen to still be under the influence of the dream sharing potion while I was having a sex dream? Or were you up and gone by then? You weren't by any chance **touching** me at all, were you? No, I thought not. So sorry to have suggested it." Bloody hell. Nothing I can do but hope he was gone._

_I'll have to see if he acts differently or embarrassed; he'd never bring it up or ask about it. But he looks embarrassed so damn often anyway, how can I tell what's causing it? He certainly looked uncomfortable last night. Not just afraid of the potion or going to sleep, but afraid of getting in bed. Almost painfully embarrassed._

_Abnormally embarrassed,_ he noted. _There's something more to that, not just awkwardness at having to be physically close to a former professor for a spell to work. Something about it being in bed. Or being me..._

_And the way he was looking at me in the classroom..._

_Perhaps he **could** actually have been touching me?_ Severus wondered, incredulous.

 _Of course not; don't be ridiculous. What would beautiful young Harry Potter be touching you for?_ hissed a snide voice in his head, the one he thought of as his 'greasy bastard' voice.

 _Beautiful? Are you daft? The little brat is certainly not beautiful; he looks like his father!_ Suddenly there were way too many voices in his head, bickering and throwing insults around like darts.

_But he is beautiful. And I want to take care of him. Help him. See him happy._

_'See him happy'? You sappy, disgusting pouf!_

_Oh, shut it_! Severus mentally yelled at all of his inner voices.

He finished brushing his teeth and slammed the cabinet door shut. Taking a deep breath, he tied the belt of his dressing gown and opened the door to go and look for Harry.

Who was sitting on the freshly made bed, dressed, hair wet from a shower, a slight flush staining his cheeks and an awkward smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 _Oh shit,_ thought Severus. _He knows._

*****

Harry had withdrawn from the bed as fast and as silently as possible, gathered up his robes, and sprinted down the hall to his rooms. He made it under the hot shower before he allowed the panicked jumble of thoughts and feelings in his head to transmute into words.

_Oh dear god. Oh no._

_That was so wonderful._

_No! It was wrong,_ Harry's inner voices argued.

_But **good** , it felt so wonderful. It's the first time I've ever touched anyone, the first sex in my life! Fantastic!_

_But with Snape! And he was asleep! It hardly counts._

_Of course it counts!_ he argued.

_But he was asleep; he didn't even want to be with me. Didn't even know I was there. And it wasn't me anyway, it was just a dream._

_But it felt **so bloody good**. Intoxicatingly good - like luxurious crimson hot velvet fire in my veins. Holding him. The way his hand held mine, how his body felt pressed against me, the weight of his cock in my hand, the glorious noises he made..._

_But it was Snape!_

_No – **Severus**. Not my professor but my colleague, my friend, helping me. Caring for me._

_No, no, no! Greasy mean nasty Potions Master Snape!_

_With soft, silky, inky black hair and smooth warm skin. And a firm body. Oh yes. Severus, with secrets and darkness and turmoil and strength. Who understands me, maybe. Who felt so wonderful, like birthdays and Christmases all rolled up together. So fantastic, holding him, crushed against him. Touching him, him rocking against me... I want that. I want more. Need it..._

"Oh gods, yes, Severus!" Harry moaned as he climaxed, hot water raining down on his head. He hadn't even realized what his hands were doing, so lost was he in his thoughts.

 _Oh fuck. That was wonderful_ , he thought, catching his breath as the final shudders ran through his body.

_Oh fuck. What have I done?_

Hot water washed all evidence away. A strong feeling of guilt and horror and impending doom began to claw its way into Harry's thoughts, but he squelched it down for the moment. _I haven't done anything that hurt anyone. And gods, that was the most brilliant orgasm of my life... Not that there have been many to compare it to..._

Harry knew he had a great deal that he needed to think about and sort through, and that he'd be battling his guilt quite soon. Mostly though, he wanted to see Snape. _Even if I can't say or do anything, I just want to see him. Severus. See if he's awake yet. I wonder what he's thinking about..._

He finished up his shower, got dressed, and headed back to Snape's rooms. He couldn't choke down the joy threatening to spread over his face; the euphoric afterglow was making him light-headed. The door to Snape's rooms was still ajar from when he left and he was somewhat relieved that Snape was out of bed and apparently in the shower when he reached the bedroom.

He decided to make the bed while he waited, on the off-chance that Snape hadn't noticed the wet spot and to save him from any embarrassment. Harry couldn't even begin to decide what Snape's reaction might be if he knew what had happened.

He was surprised to find that the sheets were clean and dry, no evidence remaining. Doubt nibbled at his mind as he finished plumping up the pillows. _Perhaps it was all entirely a dream? That doesn't seem possible, though. Maybe there's a charm to clean up. That would be useful to learn. Not that I've had need for one very often..._

The door to the bathroom burst open with more force than seemed strictly necessary and Harry felt his face flush as he struggled not to burst into a huge grin.

Snape froze in the doorway, clearly startled.

"Good morning, er, Severus," Harry said awkwardly. "Did you sleep well? I'm sorry I left before you woke up, but I, uh, needed a shower."

The other man cleared his throat, searching his face intensely as the flush stained Harry's cheeks even more. "Yes, I noticed you were gone," he replied blandly. "I slept well, thank you. And you?"

Harry lost the battle for control of his features as a huge grin spread over his face. "I've never slept better."

Snape blinked at the enthusiastic response and cleared his throat again. He seemed awkward and Harry could only think of one reason why, but it was still disconcerting to see Snape look so self-conscious.

"Yes, well, good to hear. Um, perhaps we'll talk later about the upcoming night?" Snape said as he began to pull clothes out of the dresser and wardrobe, not so subtly dismissing him.

"OK, I'll see you at meals, then," Harry answered as he left the bedroom, a smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

*****

2 PM, Day 3

Harry went about his day feeling better than he could remember ever feeling. Since it was the holidays and he had few responsibilities, he took a walk around the frozen lake, thinking the exercise would do him good. Also, far away from any witnesses, he could let his face break into a grin any time he wanted.

He felt elated and giddy whenever he thought about being in bed with Severus that morning. Which was pretty much all the time, until he approached the edges of the Forbidden Forest and his thoughts began to take a gloomier shape. His delight faded as horrible memories began to tug at him in their usual relentless way.

_This morning was so wonderful. Amazing. I've never felt anything like that before. But... What now?_

_What's going to happen the next time I see him? What does he think? Does he even know I was touching him?_

_What if he's disgusted? What if he's not really even gay, that it was just some weird dream? You can't control your dreams; if anyone knows that, it's me. What if he freaks out? Or worse..._

_What if something bad happens to him? What if... What if I've somehow done it again, like with Malfoy?_ Harry shuddered and quickly clamped down on that train of thought.

_No, that can't happen; Voldemort is dead now. He'll be all right. Snape – Severus - will be fine._

_But I didn't see him at lunch... Where was he? Was he hiding in his office? Or is he... Gone?_

Panic began to bloom as the past and present began to confuse Harry's mind. He turned around abruptly and ran back to the castle as fast as he could, determined to find Snape. Desperate to find him. To prove that he was fine, that nothing bad had happened to him, that Harry's touch hadn't cursed him yet.

With every stride the dread rose in him, until Harry was nearly frantic by the time he reached the castle. He raced down the corridors toward the dungeons, not paying any attention to where he was as he ran blindly. A few twists and turns in the labyrinthine passages and he was suddenly lost. Despite living here for two years, the dungeons still sometimes managed to ensnare him. He was lost.

He'd been lost before of course, but Harry's need to find Snape, to reassure himself that Snape was fine, was so overwhelming that he couldn't concentrate. He came to a halt, almost in tears with frustration, and yelled and kicked at a stone wall instead.

Stone door, apparently. Which opened a few moments later.

Snape looked down at him. "Yes? Is there a reason you're banging on the door rather than knocking? And what are you doing in the Slytherin storage area?"

"I was just... I got lost. I was looking for you. To see if you were all right. You weren't at lunch. And I, well, I was worried," Harry stuttered as relief flooded through him. He was trembling violently and his knees started to buckle. Snape quickly grabbed his elbow and helped ease him down into a sitting position against the wall.

"Well, you've found me. I'm fine; why wouldn't I be?"

Harry closed his eyes as he felt them begin to burn with tears, of relief or embarrassment he wasn't sure. Adrenaline washed through his body and left him feeling nauseated.

"Harry, are you all right? You're freezing cold." Snape took Harry's hands and began to chafe them between his.

"I just... I was so scared," he whispered in a broken voice, pulling his hands away from Snape to cover his face. Tears he was too exhausted to fight off began to spill down his cheeks.

Snape pulled Harry into his arms as the quiet tears turned into full sobs. "Scared of what?" he asked as he stroked Harry's hair.

"Scared of it happening again. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen. It's all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Harry, what are you talking about? What happening again? What are you sorry for? You haven't done anything."

"I- It's just- Last night- This morning I- It's all- **Sex** ," he choked out.

Every muscle in Snape's body tensed at Harry's final word. He tried to sound calm as his worst fears were realized.

"Harry, I... This morning... I do apologize." He took a deep breath. "Whatever possessed my subconscious to have that sort of dream... Well, I'm quite sorry. It was wholly inappropriate and must have disturbed you to share such a, er, foreign dream. I hope you know I never intended such a thing. I'm sorry to have made you so uncomfortable."

Harry looked up through wet eyelashes, confused. "But... I'm not. I liked it," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I just woke up. Like that. Holding you. I meant to move away, but... I didn't."

Snape blinked at him for a few moments. Harry had been holding him? During that dream, which felt so real? He consciously made an effort to lower his eyebrows from where they had frozen in shock. _He was holding me. Harry was holding me,_ resounded in his head.

He had avoided Harry all afternoon, afraid of an awkward scene, afraid that what had happened would keep Harry from wanting his help resolving whatever curse was responsible for Harry's nightmares. He'd never imagined that the other wizard wouldn't be repulsed or disgusted, or at the very least recoil from his touch.

But Harry hadn't.

When Snape had reached out to him with concern, took his hands, pulled Harry into his arms to comfort him when his panic gave way to tears, he hadn't pulled away. Harry had rested his head on Snape's shoulder and been relieved that he was all right.

_But what does this panic attack and fear have to do with this morning's erotic dream or with Harry's nightmares? Or with sex in general?_

"Harry, what is going on? I am completely lost," Snape admitted.

After a moment Harry nodded. "Not here though. Let's go back to your rooms for some privacy."


	5. Chapter 5

3 PM, Day 3

In Snape's sitting room, Harry curled into a ball at one end of the sofa, clutching a pillow to his chest, looking pathetic. Snape handed him a handkerchief and sat next to him. Neither of them seemed to know where to begin.

Finally Snape spoke: "Tell me what you were afraid of, why you thought something might have happened to me."

Harry took a deep breath. "I was afraid you might be gone," he answered hesitantly. "I didn't see you all day after, well, this morning. And not at lunch. And then I went for a walk, out by the forest. And... And then I panicked. I thought you might be dead, too," he finished, just barely above a whisper.

"Why would the events of this morning cause something bad to happen to me?" asked Snape, confused.

"Because the only other time anything happened with me, the next morning... he was gone." Harry opened eyes full of despair to look pleadingly into Snape's. When he saw that the other man still wasn't understanding him, he filled in some of the blanks. "Malfoy. He was dead. And it was all my fault. I didn't mean to," he whispered as the tears started again.

Snape put an arm around his shoulders and waited patiently for Harry to calm down until he could talk more.

"So the last time you were in bed with someone..." he prompted when Harry was more composed.

"No! Not in bed. Not anything like that. I've never..." Harry's face turned crimson and his hands came up to cover it again. "I've never done that."

"But then...?" Snape's question hung in the air between them. "'The only other time anything happened' you said. The last time what happened, exactly?"

Harry's ears turned red and he fleetingly wondered if anyone's brain had ever melted with the heat of so much embarrassment. "The last time I ever, uh, felt that way about anyone. Touched anyone," he mumbled into his hands.

"But... Haven't you ever, er, been with anyone?" Snape asked delicately. "Or, even attracted to anyone?" he probed, not wanting to embarrass the boy further about his virginity.

Harry shook his head. "Once. Just once. Autumn term in sixth year. Malfoy and I ran into each other in the hallway and started arguing about something, like always. I was so furious. Next thing I knew, he lunged at me, and we fell to the floor, rolling around and trying to, I don't know, strangle each other or something. And then... Something changed. It felt good," he whispered.

After a long pause the young man continued. "Then that night, I had a dream. Not a nightmare, not at first anyway. A, well, a sex dream. About Draco. We were... Well. And then, in the dream, Voldemort came."

Harry closed his eyes; he heard Voldemort's cold laughter in his head again and that eerie serpentine voice full of evil joy as it sneered at him: _"Harry Potter! Have you forgotten that you are mine? No others for you; not now, not ever. You fancy young Malfoy? Yes, he is lovely. But he isn't for you. No one is. Ever."_ The words had been followed by more of the maniacal laughter that echoed in his head every night and drove him nearly to madness.

"And then?" Snape prompted in a soft tone. "The Dark Lord appeared in your dream?"

"He took Draco away," Harry replied. "And then when I woke up the next morning... he was gone. Draco was gone. No one could find him."

Snape remembered vividly the panic that had flooded the castle when the younger Malfoy had mysteriously disappeared from his dormitory, only to be found dead a few days later in the Forbidden Forest.

"He died," Harry said. "It was all my fault. I didn't, I hadn't even really **thought** about him that way before then. But it was all my fault. Voldemort wouldn't have killed him if I hadn't, um, wanted him. So I couldn't. I can't. I can't want anyone - they'll die!" he cried, an edge of panic rising in his voice. "He'll kill them all and it will always be all my fault and I can't. I can't do this, I can't go on. It's just, there's no point. And I'm just so alone..." he choked, curling into a ball and succumbing to hysterical sobs.

Snape held him and let him cry.

 _I'm getting bloody good at this reassuring business_ , he thought. _Merlin. Who knew Harry blamed himself for Draco's death? What kind of mind games did Voldemort play with the boy all those years?_

 _As if Voldemort killed Draco just because Harry was attracted to him... Although that **is** more reason than the evil bastard ever needed. I suppose I wasn't the only one who suspected that Draco might not have wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. He was expendable. And Lucius didn't even seem to care_ , Severus remembered with a shiver.

_But for Harry to blame himself, as if his desire was so toxic it would kill anyone he lusted after... No wonder the boy withdrew from everyone during his last few years of school. No wonder he's terrified to feel anything sexual. And the two boys didn't even really **do** anything... Harry just had a dream..._

_A dream? A sex dream about Malfoy. And then the Dark Lord came and took Draco away. In the dream and in reality. A real Voldemort visiting a dreaming Harry, to learn what he wants and take it away...?_

"Harry?" Snape asked when the crying had subsided. "What did Voldemort say to you in your dream when he took Draco?"

Harry refused to meet his eyes as he stuttered, trying to answer a few times, then sighed in resignation as he shook his head. "I can't say."

"Are all of your dreams about Voldemort?" Snape asked, changing tactics.

"All the bad ones."

"And do they all have a sexual aspect of some sort?"

"A lot of them. From about Fifth year on."

"Hmm... So as your sexuality awakened, Voldemort somehow began to invade your dreams in an active way, beyond the usual manifestations of subconscious fear, yes?"

Harry nodded.

"Interesting," Snape mused. "Sexual feelings are already rooted so deep in the subconscious... and already so fraught with intense feelings of secrecy and shame. And you can double all of that since you're queer..."

Harry's ears turned pink and he hid his head in Snape's shoulder.

Startled out of his train of thought, Snape tried to recall what he had just said. "Ah. It's quite all right. I won't tell anyone, but it's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. And, as I'm sure you may have concluded from last night, so am I."

Harry nodded into his chest and mumbled something.

"What?"

After a few more mumbles, Harry gave up and sighed. "I'm just so bloody tired."

"Why don't you lie down and rest?" Snape suggested.

Harry's eyes grew wide with longing, but shook his head negative until Snape bodily pulled him up and started prodding him towards the bedroom. "Just lie down. I'll get you a moist cloth for your eyes and I'll stay right here. You don't have to sleep, just rest. You've been through a lot today."

Within a few moments Harry had laid down on the bed with Snape settled in next to him, sitting against the headboard.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me?" Harry asked quietly from under the cloth.

Snape's mouth twitched at the corners and he reached out one hand to smooth the hair off of Harry's forehead. Later, when he was certain Harry was asleep, he whispered the answer as if afraid to speak it aloud: "Because I care about you."

*****

6 PM, Day 3

Severus sat beside Harry on the bed for several hours while the young man dozed, letting his thoughts come and go as they might.

_So many sorrows for one so young. Too heavy a burden. And to bear it all alone... not unlike me. But I chose it. Mostly. But I know what it is to be alone, to hide something inside you for fear of contaminating others with your poison. But I chose mine; I joined the Dark Lord voluntarily. Harry never chose this._

_That curse... To have to stifle all feelings of sexuality, of affection, at just the time of their blossoming. At a time when a boy can't help it at all, hormones totally out of control. But he stayed in control... Except once. And what a price to pay for it. Possibly a higher price even than Draco himself..._

_He was so serene when we found him in the forest, Hagrid and I. Unmarked, not even a worried or surprised expression on his face. Just dead. Peaceful. Not even a person, just a pretty toy that Harry had wanted, stolen by Lord Voldemort and broken simply to spite him. At least Draco wasn't tortured. I always wondered if Lucius killed him himself..._

_And every thought, every lustful look or flicker of guilt-laden desire since then has probably torn Harry apart. I can't imagine the control, of having to not only not act or speak on your desires, but to not even allow yourself to think or dream, in fear. That must have given so much power to the Dark Lord. And it must have made Harry feel so lonely and empty. To be so alone. Not just physically, but alone in his head as well. To always feel that something so senseless was his fault. To be afraid to feel anything for anyone, least they become targets. To hate himself for it. To feel unworthy of love..._

_He's such a passionate boy, though. Young man. So full of energy and anger and drive. At least, he was. He did quiet down a lot, sober up over the years. At the time I thought he was simply maturing. I suppose he was just grieving though, building walls, refusing to feel anything deeply. No wonder he's so tired. Suppressing all those emotions must be exhausting. It **is** exhausting; I should know._

_And he's been doing this for years. Having nightmares for years..._

_The Dark Lord must have done something to him in his dreams. Something to trigger all of this guilt and shame and inability to talk about it. And paralyzing, overwhelming fear. Must have convinced Harry that he's worthless. Not that he needed to make much effort, with those terrible Muggles who raised the boy... And Harry's own feelings of uselessness now that the Dark Lord is dead. Who wouldn't feel worthless? I feel it, too. I have all year. Until I found Harry to take care of a few days ago._

_To take care of? Help, rather. Protect. Cure..._

_Love?_

_No, don't go down that path. Harry may befriend me, but no one could love me. I'm a spy, a Death Eater, duplicitous, weak, cold, cruel, mean..._

_But Harry held me. Touched me. Why? How did that make him feel? Would he do it again? Would I want him to?_

_Gods, yes._

_This is... Terrifying. I could lose myself in this. In him. I want it too much. Him, And I can't..._

_He's barely a man. He's so young. I'm far too old for him..._

_But I do understand him better than anyone else probably could. I know him._

_And I've missed his smiles this last year. I miss his impishness. I want him back, better, healed._

_We must find the counter-curse. I won't let Voldemort have him. I won't let him win. I won't let him take Harry away from me. Even in death that bastard seems to be winning and I will **not** let him. I just have to figure out how this curse works, how all of these pieces fit together..._

_I have to convince Harry to take that potion again, only with him as the dreamer this time, and let me see whatever it is that he can't tell me. I must know how all of this began..._

*****

7 PM, Day 3

Harry woke up from a light doze. Snape was still seated next to him, but was asleep. Harry sat up, feeling refreshed and barely groggy at all. _I'm getting used to this, waking up with Snape nearby. No, Severus,_ he smiled to himself, a shiver running through his body as he looked at the other man's face, relaxed in sleep. _Porcelain skin, sharp cheekbones, velvety lashes, soft lips..._

Unconsciously, Harry moved closer, lightly touching those lips with his fingertip. He started to lean in, wanting to feel those soft lips against his own, but drew back at the last minute to lay his head on Snape's shoulder instead.

_What on earth am I doing? Just because I want to doesn't mean I should. Just because he said he was gay and knows I am doesn't mean he would ever want me like that. Why would he? He hated me as a student, tolerated me in the war, and now wants to help me. He doesn't **wan** t me. Just because he didn't have a complete conniption when I said I was holding him this morning doesn't mean he liked it. Gods, I'm so pathetic._

Harry sighed with resignation, determined to push his feelings away. All of the pain and fear and hope and desire. _Just shove it down and forget about it. It's for the best anyway. I don't want him to get hurt_ , he thought as he forcibly removed himself from the bed.

Snape's eyes flew open as the bed was jostled by Harry's swift departure. He had felt Harry touch his lips, held his breath as he'd felt the young man move closer, and fought to not sigh audibly as Harry instead rested his head against his shoulder.

Harry shot him an embarrassed smile from the chair beside the bed and said the first thing he thought: "It's nice to wake up with you."

Snape's eyebrows shot upward, and Harry could feel the shocked expression mirrored on his own face as he began to flush.

After a moment of awkwardness, Snape cleared his throat, "Er. Yes. We should eat something and get to work. Figure out a plan. Do some research." _Hide in books and potions, before I think too much about waking up with Harry._

*****

9 PM, Day 3

They spent the rest of the evening researching in the library and going over the facts again and again. Harry felt they were no closer to an answer than when Snape had awoken him in his chambers two nights ago. Snape hadn't commented, but did admit that they weren't going to get much farther without more information. Information which was locked away in Harry's mind.

Harry could tell the other man was hesitant to mention it, so he brought up the dream-sharing potion himself, despite his own reluctance to use it. It really did seem to be the only option. The only other clues they had were lists of facts that made no sense on their own: the connection between Voldemort and Harry, the dream visitations having real-life effects, the failure of the Dreamless Sleep potion, the "cure" of the Memory Charm, and the sexual component of the dreams. Some of the hexes they'd found in books were close, but nothing fit entirely.

They retired from the library to another evening in the potions lab. They worked quietly together, chopping and stirring, each lost in his thoughts...

*****

_He acts like he can save me but no one can ever save me from this. I've done what I was meant to do with my life. Why am I still alive? Why didn't I die? Why haven't I ended it by now, if I'm always going to be so alone?_

_Why does he think he can just swoop in like some knight in shining armor (all right - black, non-shiny armor) and make all of this pain and fear go away? He can't fix me. Why would he even want to? Why is he doing all of this? How can someone so distant and cold my whole childhood suddenly be so warm and caring?_

_What's going on?_

_Severus can't actually feel anything for me. Why on earth would he? I'm so worthless. He doesn't want me physically. No one does or ever could; I'm so pristine and untouchable and terrified. Not to mention toxic - don't forget Malfoy..._

_Maybe he just wants something to do. Maybe he just wants some companionship. Yeah, that must be it. I can give him that. Just keep all the nasty, evil, black feelings and desires to myself, and only give him the stuff that's ok. We'll be friends. He'll never know anything more about it. This problem, this curse, this project will be one thing, and my feelings about Severus will be something separate. I'll answer his questions but... I won't give him anything he can't want. Stay in control._

_It's going to be hard trying to be just a friend and be honest without talking about how I feel. I don't even want to think about the sex stuff. I wish I could go back to not feeling anything. Everything is just happening too fast._

_Fuck. This feels like it's going to tear me apart. But I'll do it, I'll be friendly and keep all the other stuff locked deep inside, if that's what I have to do._

_I'm scared to even think it in words but... I wish he wanted me._

_I wish I could be capable of more._

*****

_Harry is so beautiful. Not classically, not perfect, but just... lovely._

_But so tormented. So exhausted. So obviously miserable and in need of saving. How can I be the only one to have ever noticed it or the only one to ever want to help him? Maybe he just never let anyone else see, keeping his distance from everyone else and using that ridiculous Glamour spell._

_I can't believe I'm the only one he's ever opened up to, the only one he lets see him like this. The one he trusts to help him. Why me? I'm honored, but... It's almost too much. Too much responsibility. Too much emotion._

_I'm feeling things I haven't felt in decades? If ever. Wanting to protect him. Wanting to save him. Wanting him._

_Gods, I want him. I'm twice his age though. And even if he wanted me... Well, it's terrifying. To feel this._

_To love._

_Yes, love, no matter how reluctant I am to even think the word. I think I could love him._

_He trusts me. I even think he desires me. But does he love me?_

_Could he ever know me and still love me? His nasty old potions teacher, the sharp-tongued bastard who once hated him because of his father and only learned to tolerate him because Albus demanded it? Who thought he liked being famous and only noticed that he hated it once the Dark Lord had returned?_

_And even if he could, wouldn't it be a bad idea? He's a virgin. I remember too well the utter gratitude and devotion given the first time I shared my body with someone else. The first time I was vulnerable that way. It's too much responsibility._

_I don't deserve him. I'd hurt him at some point. I end up ruining everything I touch eventually..._

_Just like Harry thinks he does._

_Perhaps we're both wrong? Perhaps..._

*****

Severus noticed suddenly that they had both been lost in their thoughts for some time and the potions were almost complete. He cleared his throat and made an effort to keep any of the emotions he was feeling out of his voice. "It's time for the lashes and hairs, then we'll be finished here."

Harry did Severus first, with a great deal more shaking of hands than the night before. _Whatever he was thinking, it's certainly upset him,_ Severus noticed.

Then it was his turn. It took an immense amount of control to not think about how good it felt to touch Harry, how soft his skin was, and when the involuntary tears from each lash pulling seemed more copious than the night before, Severus wondered if they were tears of a different sort.

But Harry simply bowed his head without opening his eyes and Severus ran his fingers through the short, dark curls and quickly pulled out two hairs. When Harry still didn't move, head bowed, eyes closed, looking defeated and hopeless, Severus pulled him into an embrace before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. Harry relaxed into his arms and for a moment Severus felt a sense of completion and peace so deeply it awed him.

In his arms, Harry felt so safe, so protected, so fulfilled... For a moment. Then his earlier thoughts came rushing back, and his frame stiffened with commingled despair and desire and the effort to keep it all hidden within.

Severus' moment of peace was shattered so abruptly that without even meaning to, he let go of the young man and his own hurt feelings gave way to old defenses, as his voice instinctively dripped acidic sarcasm: "I can see this is going to be a relaxing night in my bed. Doesn't anyone ever touch you?"

Harry's eyes widened as all the color drained out of his face and he made a sudden movement as if to flee. Severus caught him by the arm, his temper fading before the last syllable was uttered, suddenly afraid of how much he might have damaged whatever this tentative thing between them was. He pushed aside for later the thought of how intense and quick were his successive feelings of peace, followed by hurt, anger, and fear.

The two men stood looking at each other, not knowing what to say.

Finally Harry met Severus' eyes and bitterly answered his question. "No. Nobody ever touches me."

Something inside Severus melted in the face of Harry's raw pain and he wanted nothing more than to hold Harry so tightly he would forget all his past. Instead, he did the best he could and offered a small confession of his own. "No one often touches me either. I suppose we're both a bit awkward."

Harry seemed to accept his apology, and he nodded.

They hovered for a moment, on the edge of a conversation neither of them was ready for, but both desperately wanted to have already be in the past.

Instead Harry cleared his throat and nodded towards the potions. "Are they ready yet? I'm tired." At Severus' nod, he continued. "Fine then. I'll meet you in your rooms in a few minutes."

*****

As they drank their potions and got into the bed, the tension was almost unbearable. Harry was doing a commendable job of refusing to let himself think about anything at all, most especially how scared he was of the nightmares he was about to have, about letting Snape see them, about being in bed with Snape again, about his confusing feelings, about how strangely the other man was acting... As the list of forbidden topics grew and grew, he failed to notice that he was, in fact, thinking as he drifted off to sleep...

Snape was also trying valiantly to halt the activity of his brain, that annoying chorus of internal voices. As he had more practice, he was more successful than the young man sharing his pillow at subduing them. However, his body decided to fill the void in his mind by announcing its repressed desires; quiet mind, screaming body. Snape decided to call it a draw and fell asleep resigned to sexual frustration and hoping to somehow try to control himself enough to not molest the boy as he slept.

*****

Harry dreamed...

He was in a small, dim room, lying on his back, surrounded by wooden slats. A woman's voice was making reassuring cooing noises as he looked up at her but he could feel her fear. She was frightened, so he was also. He heard a loud crash and began to cry as the house shook. The woman screamed as someone came into the room and tried to shield him with her body. Then she was gone and the most evil voice he'd ever heard said strange words to him, sharp hateful words that hurt unbearably, and pain washed over him and he screamed and screamed as the world went dark...

His heart pounded as a shade drifted across the floor of the Forbidden Forest towards the dead unicorn. His feet were leaden, his throat closed. He couldn't run or move or scream for help, not that there was any help nearby. Then the shade turned and saw him. He was helpless to move as it advanced...

He watched with horror as Professor Quirrell unwrapped his turban to reveal a grotesque parody of a face on the back of his head. The moment where he stood paralyzed with fear lengthened and stretched endlessly as his horror grew with each heartbeat...

The images came faster: in the Chamber of Secrets under Hogwarts, a teenaged boy's voice teased and tormented him as his best friend's little sister lay dying. He was alone and helpless as pain ripped through his arm...

Cedric was killed before his eyes in a flash and he could do nothing, too shocked with his own terror... He was bound to a gravestone, pierced with a knife, helpless to prevent the rebirth of the greatest evil he could imagine... Vomit rose in his throat as the greyish creature arose from the cauldron... He tried to run but his ankle was broken and he fell...

Voldemort's quiet laughter rang in his head, as his voice slithered into his ear, "Have you forgotten that you are **mine**? No others for you, not now, not ever..."

Voldemort loomed above him, giant against the night sky, and shrieked curses of torture and death. Fireballs rained from the sky and he heard screams all around him as the Death Eaters closed in. Harry could do nothing... In the distance, he heard a wolf-like howl and knew that Sirius was dead.

A cold, serpentine voice hissed at him, naming his worst fears and making them real. "You are alone and worthless. No one cares about you. They only see you as a knight in shining armor who they think will save the world. But you will fail. You're not real to them. You cannot stop me! _Crucio_!"

Again and again, he stood facing his enemy, trembling with fear, alone, helpless, filled with despair. Paralyzed with fright, overcome with nauseating dread, unable to do anything to help anyone else or even to save himself.

The dreams went on and on...

*****

After what seemed like endless hours of dreaming, Harry finally woke, whimpering brokenly. Held tight in Snape's arms while as cool hands stroked his cheek and hair, soft lips whispered into his neck that he was safe, that it was all over. That the Dark Lord was dead and none of it was his fault.

Exhausted, Harry fell asleep before the tears stopped leaking out his eyes, held secure and safe for the first time in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

10 AM, Day 4

_I woke up in his arms again, but it was different this time. He was holding me, still tightly, after my nightmares. Which he saw. Holding me as I cried and as I slept after. Holding me like he could keep me safe. I'm starting to think maybe he can..._

_But that's not what I woke up to, late in the morning. He was touching me. Light fingertips tracing patterns on my chest and stomach, waist and hips. Feeling my arms through my t-shirt. Breathing warm breath on my neck, almost-but-not-quite touching my skin with his lips. Legs pressed into mine, bottom arm between our bodies, knuckles of his hand slightly touching the curve of my bum. Not anything overtly sexual; all caresses that could be written off as comforting or soothing._

_I've never been so aroused in my life. Every muscle in my body strained with the effort of not writhing in his arms. Every part of me ached for a firmer touch, something less soothing and more possessive. For him to claim me._

_I didn't know what to do, so I lay there feigning sleep, feeling like my body was drugged, but with my mind wide awake and panicking, unsure. And of course with my cock hard and throbbing, straining, pleading with my brain to grab his hand and move it there. Or to press my arse back against his knuckles and moan like a whore..._

_What am I going to do?_

_Did he do it on purpose? Was he even awake? Does he want me? What was he thinking? Why did he stop? Will he do it again?_

_I want him to do it again._

_I want him._

_I think I had to write all this down just to realize that. To see it on parchment and ink so I know it's true._

_I want him._

_I think I may even love him._

Harry set down the quill and picked up his wand instead. One touch and a murmured _Incendo_ and the parchment was nothing more than a flutter of ashes.

*****

6 PM, Day 4

Harry could think of nothing else all day. His body pulsed and thrummed as if it had just come to life, just been discovered. Every time his mind wasn't focused on something specific, it wandered to last night, in bed, Snape touching him. Every time he thought about it, his body was instantly ready for more of the same. His attempts to concentrate on Quidditch training or Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plans were a disaster.

As the day progressed he was exceedingly grateful for his voluminous robes, obscuring the reoccurring bulge in his trousers. At lunch he sat with Madame Hooch, at the opposite end of the table from where Snape usually ate. They talked Quidditch and she seemed unusually patient with his inability to follow their conversation. Madam Pomfrey conducted an impromptu examination of his hands and face, much to his annoyance, and a few other professors stopped by to express concern over his "sleep problem."

More than anything, he wanted to be with Snape and talk to him.

_I know, I'll just go straight up to him and say, "Were you touching me last night? Because I liked it. I want you. I think I may love you. No, of course I'm not mad. Well, yes, signs would seem to indicate the opposite. No, I haven't forgotten about that whole curse business either. Sorry to have implied that you could want someone as pointless and pathetic as me."_

Perhaps he'd just keep his distance a while longer.

A heavy snow had fallen over the last few days, making any excursions outside an impossibility. As darkness fell in the early afternoon, Harry's ever-present arousal and frustration grew. He wandered up to the Astronomy Tower to look at the stars and think. And to avoid Snape.

_My body feels so strange. Alive and awake and humming with energy. Energy all centered in my pants, unfortunately. Why can't I just be a normal person and just go wank like anyone else? I can't do that again, though. I can't think of him and do that. I'd never be able to look him in the face again._

_And what if something happened? Part of me knows it won't, but what if it did?_

_And I'm still so fucking tired my eyes feel like they're on fire and my muscles ache. My hands and face look fine, thanks to Madam Pomfrey. I can't believe that was only two days ago. Time is doing strange things. I can't believe how fast this is all happening with Snape. Severus._

_I guess we're friends now. Last week I wouldn't have thought so, but now... After all he's listened to, all the times he's held me while I cried in the last few days..._

_And I'm so bloody sick of sobbing all the time. I think I've cried more in the last week than my whole childhood put together. I used to be such a stoic little boy. Where is all that control now? I'm just so exhausted..._

_He knows all my secrets. Well, almost all of them. By the time this is over he'll know all of the big ones, I'm sure. He won't give up. I feel like he's pursuing me but I'm not exactly running. I'm just scared._

_How can I give him just friendship, just a normal friendship, if I want him this badly? How can I push this all away and continue to share a bed with him? How am I going to find out if he wants me or not? I'm so lost._

Harry stared at the stars for a few minutes and then chuckled to himself. _Moon sextile Venus, with Venus retrograde. Maybe I should drag out some of my old textbooks and see if the answers are in the stars. I'm sure Trelawney would be thrilled to help predict my broken heart and ultimate doom if I asked for her assistance._

_No, I'm just going to have to do this myself. I'll track him down and we'll do some research and I'll see if I can get a few questions of my own answered. After all, what exactly do I have to lose? He's seen my deepest fears. He knows I'm gay and that I'm a virgin. He's let me sob all over him. If he's repulsed, well..._

_I'm sure it will hurt, but I don't exactly have much to live for anyway. My life isn't really worth living..._

_I don't know if this is Gryffindor bravery or just fatalism. Either way, I can't stay in this tower forever._

He squared his shoulders and stalked down to the dungeons, ready to corner Snape.

*****

7 PM, Day 4

Harry found him in the library, to his surprise.

"I was wondering when you'd decide to join me," Snape said.

"I was in the Astronomy Tower, thinking."

"I can see how that would take you a while."

Harry wasn't sure if he should be amused or insulted. He settled for replying lightly, "Well I didn't become a household name on the merits of my intellect."

"Given that you were less than two years old, I should hope not. So what were the results of your ruminations?"

The pause where Harry considered how to answer stretched uncomfortably. His face flushed as he thought of this morning and all the questions he had but he couldn't just blurt them out. Finally he mumbled, "I was thinking about you."

Harry missed the brief hint of surprised pleasure which crossed Snape's face before it disappeared under his habitual mask of sarcasm. "Really? Whatever for? It would have been more useful to be thinking about the curse. That's what I've been doing and I'm not the person who was hexed."

Harry bristled at the criticism. "I didn't ask you to help," he snapped, hurt that Snape's usual bite had replaced the more recent compassion and irritated with himself for expecting anything different.

"I didn't realize I needed an invitation," Snape retorted.

"Why are you being such a git? I thought- I thought we were friends now."

There was no mistaking the hurt in Harry's voice and they both flushed slightly, remembering earlier that morning and the possibility of more than friendship.

Harry's frustration grew with Snape's silence. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being so distant? Why do you want to help me with this anyway?"

"I need something to do over the holidays?" Snape offered, one corner of his mouth twitching up slightly as his dark eyes sparkled.

Harry smirked outright. "I'm sure you can do better than that."

"I..." Snape flipped through several possible statements: _feel bad about the memory charm; am still trying to atone for my sins as a Death Eater; am tired of being alone; am attracted to you; or perhaps something with the word "love" in it._ He settled for "...wanted to see you stop looking so tired."

Harry rolled his eyes at the non-answer. "Fine then. What have you discovered?"

"I've been thinking about last night."

Harry colored immediately and was almost positive that the Snape's cheeks flushed as well before he continued.

"About last night's dreams." Snape paused, to meet and hold Harry's gaze before he continued. "They weren't exactly dreams, were they? They were memories of things that have all actually happened to you."

Harry nodded his confirmation.

"So if they aren't really dreams, that would explain why the memory charm was successful but the dreamless aspect of the sleeping potion failed."

"That makes sense," Harry answered slowly. "But short of having my memory permanently altered, I still don't see how to break the curse."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You're jumping ahead. You can't go straight from one fact about one symptom to finding the counter-hex. You have to look at the whole picture, the other effects. Take motivation - what purpose would a curse serve that made you relive your most frightened moments with the Dark Lord over and over?"

"It's exhausting," Harry answered. "And it was demoralizing, before the war was over. Reliving those moments when I was frozen in terror and unable to move made it even harder to face him every time, while Voldemort was still alive."

"Exactly so." Snape paused a moment before recapturing Harry's eyes, refusing to let him look away. "But those dreams weren't the worse nightmares you have, were they?"

"They're no picnic," Harry retorted, looking away.

"Of course not. But there are worse dreams, aren't there?"

"What are you getting at? Just say it already," Harry said, getting annoyed.

"Fine. I'll spell it out for you: sex. Whatever it is that terrifies you the most, it has something to so with sex, doesn't it?"

Harry flushed in irritation as well as embarrassment and fixed his gaze on the table. "What makes you think that?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Snape looked more than a little uncomfortable himself. "Well, from what you said about your dream about Malfoy. And the nightmare you had after you were released from the infirmary." He shifted uneasily in his chair. "I was watching you so I could wake you if you had a nightmare."

Harry nodded, puzzled by Snape's discomfort.

"I was reading. You fell asleep. And, er, exhibited signs of having an erotic dream."

Snape was definitely blushing now, but so was Harry. Snape had watched him have an erotic dream? How could he tell? Had he made noises? Kissed his pillow? Humped the mattress? He was mortified.

Snape cleared his throat. "Anyway. It seemed like an erotic dream, so I got up to leave you alone. But before I even made it out the door, you were screaming in terror. After you calmed down somewhat I asked you what you were dreaming about and you couldn't tell me. Can you tell me now?"

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"I think it's important. I think it may hold the key."

"So what do we do then? Keep taking the dream-sharing potion until I happen to have that dream again?" Harry asked incredulously.

Snape shook his head, seeming overcome by frustrated exhaustion. He dropped his face into his hands, elbows on the table. "I don't know. I don't know how to make you have a specific dream that you not only don't want to have, but can't even talk about." He slumped down further. "What do you suggest, Harry?"

Harry took a moment to enjoy the little shiver that passed through his body at the way Snape said his given name. The man had the most incredible voice, like creamy soft leather gloves that fit like a second skin, warm and secure and sinfully smooth...

"I don't know what to do either," Harry answered. "But this is stupid. It's my problem; I should figure it out. I'm tired of having everyone else doing things for me." He walked over to a window and stared out at the moonlight on the snow. _So tired..._

He could feel Snape's eyes on him. _All I want is to be in bed with him. Have him touch me again. Sleep in his arms. All I want is to be safe in his arms and feel drunk with lust, like this morning... The easiest way to get him back into bed would be the potion..._

"Maybe you could add something to the potion?" he asked hesitantly. "Something, um, aphrodisiac?" He hoped his blush wasn't reflected in the windowpane.

Snape's voice from behind him sounded amused. "Are you sure that's what you want, Mr. Potter?"

 _No; I want you to fulfill every fantasy I've ever had, starting with kissing me until I faint,_ he thought. Harry cleared his throat.

"Yes. Yes, it's what I want. If you think it'll work."

"Very well. Shall we retire to the Potions classroom, then, and assemble another batch of our delicious bedtime brew?" Snape invited, as he held open the door.

*****

8 PM, Day 4

Once again they were in the Potions classroom, chopping and mincing and simmering. Harry had begun to think he could brew this potion blindfolded with one arm tied behind his back. He was torn between being pleasantly surprised that over the last few days potions had become something he was actually good at, and feeling bored out of his mind. Mostly he was bored, since Snape did all of the interesting parts and he just fetched and prepared ingredients.

In fact, he was getting a bit irritated by that. In a somewhat petulant tone he asked, "Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Snape looked up from the book he was reading while he stirred. "No. I'm still deciding which, er, aphrodisiac to include," he answered with a slight flush creeping across his face.

Harry wanted to make some witty comment about how Snape probably never expected to be consensually dosing him with lust-inspiring potions, but decided against it because he'd probably end up getting too embarrassed to get the words out and sputtering like a fool instead.

_I'm so bloody sick of feeling embarrassed and foolish and uncertain and confused all the time. Too many ups and downs. I'm too tired to handle any of it. Too fucking tired in general. The only decent rest I've had has been in Severus' bed and that hasn't quite been entirely restful... Funny how he's 'Severus' in bed... I should try calling him that aloud some time..._

"So what have you decided to use?" Harry asked after a long silence.

Snape closed the book and stared into the simmering cauldron, not meeting Harry's eyes. "I think probably agave juice would be best. I believe I have some in my personal stock. Stir this while I fetch it. Slowly, clockwise."

Harry moved over to the cauldron while Snape left the room. As he sank down on the bench to stir he was overwhelmed with exhaustion and a feeling of futility. One more night of drinking the potion, going to bed with Snape, having screaming nightmares, and still no guarantee of success. In all likelihood it would also increase his sexual frustration, which was frankly getting to be more than he could bear. He'd never been so tense before and so completely unable to do anything about it. If he wasn't a cursed freak, he could masturbate to alleviate some of the pressure, but...

He sighed. Frankly, he doubted even wanking would really work completely. _I'm sick of being a freak. Of being broken. This isn't going to work; even if it does, it's just going to help figure out what the curse is, not how to break it. This could take forever. I could be cursed for the rest of my life..._ He pessimistically dismissed the thought that at least now he knew he was cursed and had someone helping him.

_Gods, what's the point? I'm so tired of all of this. Of pretending I'm sleeping fine, pretending I'm happy to be everyone's superfluous hero, of not having anyone know who I really am, of being so afraid that if they knew, they'd hate me. Let alone if they knew I was gay. And if they ever found out about Severus, about how much I want him..._

He shivered, thinking of his old friends' potentially horrible reactions. _Snape could never want me though, so it doesn't matter. Sometimes I think he does, but he couldn't possibly see anything in a naive little brat like me, could he? Of course not. I'll be alone forever. Just like Voldemort wanted..._

 _Why did I live?_ he wondered bitterly, his free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. _Such a stupid life..._

"There's no point," he mumbled.

"What did you say?" Snape asked from beside his shoulder.

Harry jumped; he hadn't heard the other man's return. "Nevermind," he replied, feeling his depression begin to give way to anger. Snape gave him a searching look, and Harry shifted uncomfortably off of the stool to evade his gaze.

"You really should consider talking to someone," Snape suggested quietly. "Work through some of your bitterness before you end up a resentful, lonely old man."

"I should have died," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Snape's reply surprised him. "So should I have. And many who died should have lived."

Harry shook his head, not sure what he was disagreeing with, and closed his eyes as he admitted, "I just can't believe I haven't done it yet. I'm such a coward."

Snape didn't pretend that he didn't know what Harry was talking about. Of course he knew; he'd had the same thoughts himself for nearly two decades. "Well, why haven't you, if you really believe that?"

"I... I don't want them to know," Harry said, putting his feelings into words for the first time. "They think I'm a hero. They don't know me."

Harry missed the eyebrow that Snape raised at this excuse. "Yet you'll live a miserable, lonely life, so 'they' won't find out that their hero is merely human?"

He shrugged. "I guess so. For now."

Snape gave him a penetrating look as he considered how to respond to the implicit threat. After a few moments he sighed. "Why not find something to live for instead? Something to do?"

Harry snorted.

Snape struggled to control the smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't take the boy seriously, just that... Well, he knew Harry had too great a will to live. He was depressed, certainly, but Snape suspected that he wouldn't sound quite so melodramatic if he wasn't as sleep deprived.

Harry's voice grew louder with frustration as he answered. "Like what? Stay here at Hogwarts and assistant coach and tutor for the next sixty years? How can I figure out what to do with my life when I can't even fucking sleep?" He realized he was almost shouting and took a deep breath. "I feel like I'm going insane."

Snape's eyes twinkled with barely concealed mirth. "I have heard sanity is boring. One thing at a time, Harry. Back to the potion. We'll contemplate the rest of your life later."

*****

This time the gathering of personal items was less fraught with tension and instead strangely intimate. Harry's exhaustion prevented a repeat of last night's overwhelming emotions while he touched Snape.

For his part, Snape managed to focus on the task at hand when it was his turn to touch Harry. Until the end anyway, when Harry's head was still bowed from the hair removal. Snape gently ran his fingers through the unkempt hair, stroking and petting until Harry let out a sigh of what sounded like pleasure. He slowly, purposefully pulled the young man into his arms, giving Harry adequate time to push him away.

He didn't.

Harry's hands crept tentatively from his own thighs to Snape's waist. They stood for a moment, awkward yet calm, feeling each other's warmth until they heard footsteps echoing in the corridor outside. They sprang apart as the door opened and Dumbledore peered in.

"Ah. I thought I might find you two in here. Just wanted to check in and see how everything was going. You've both been missing meals the last few days. Are you feeling better, Harry? Making progress on the mystery, Severus?" the headmaster asked with characteristic cheerfulness.

Harry nodded his affirmation as Snape responded, "Yes Albus. We're discovering rather a lot."

The brief look Snape and Harry exchanged at this, as if they had a secret, was not lost on Dumbledore. "Very well then. I'd hate to keep you from anything important. Do let me know how everything turns out," he said, turning to leave.

"He's keeping an eye on us," Harry observed with more than a trace of annoyance in his voice once the door had closed.

"Of course. He likes to know everything that happens in his castle." Snape's tone was weary.

"Checking up on his instruments to ensure that they're all in good working order," Harry sneered.

Snape raised an eyebrow as he gave a sharp look at the young man next to him. "You seem quite angry. Are you sure your frustration is directed appropriately? Albus has always striven to help you."

"Of course he has," Harry answered. "It was in everyone's best interest to make sure The Boy Who Lived learned enough to be able to defeat Voldemort again. But it isn't like he ever cared about me as a person."

"Are you accusing Albus of using you?"

"Yes. Not any more than he used you. Or anyone else. But yes. Of course it was for the greater good. But it's still being used for what you are, rather than who you are." Snape's unreadable expression prompted Harry to continue. "I don't hate him. I wouldn't say he's a puppet master, but Headmaster Dumbledore is definitely skilled at pulling strings."

"You certainly seem to have changed your opinion of him," Snape replied after a long silence.

"I grew up," Harry said wearily. "I honestly don't mean to sound so ungrateful. And I know it was all in the interest of everyone. But... I see more clearly now. His motivations were not as innocent as I believed them to be when I was a boy."

Snape held his gaze for a long moment, as if reading his thoughts. "Yes. You have grown up," he replied. "Far more than many adults ever do." He sounded almost sad.

Harry was uncomfortable, almost wishing he could take it back. He wasn't going to apologize for having an opinion, though.

"Do you still want to do this?" he asked, changing the topic and nodding at the cauldron.

It took Snape a moment to snap out of his thoughts. "Yes. I think so. If you're ready. I'll add the agave juice last," he said with a slight flush.

A suddenly impish feeling broke over Harry, as he thought about what the aphrodisiac's effects might be. He broke into a face-splitting grin. "Not too much, now. I'm not twenty yet and I don't need that much encouragement."

Harry was pleased to see that Snape **definitely** blushed.

*****

11 PM, Day 4

The aphrodisiac hit Harry's bloodstream like an intoxicant. Mixed with the dream-encouraging ingredients in the potion, he felt his body get heavier and more immobile, yet more and more aroused as he drifted off to sleep. Of course it didn't help that the bed was already full of sensual memories from the last few mornings. For once, he felt reassured by Snape's presence on the pillow next to him and not so afraid of the nightmares that were to come.

Harry dreamed...

He was fifteen and he was having an erotic dream. He was on a bed, some place dark and familiar. It was so dark he couldn't see anything. Perhaps his eyes were closed.

Someone was kissing him. Touching him. Legs tangled with his own, a flat, hard chest pressed against his. Rolling together on the bed, hips grinding against his. Fingers unbuttoned his clothes, pushing them quickly out of the way. He was lost, overwhelmed, didn't know what to do. It was all so fast...

He wanted more. Naked, he fumbled with the other boy's clothes, still refusing to open his eyes.

Afraid.

A harsh voice whispered into his mouth as he was kissed forcefully. "Do you want me, Harry?"

Harry whimpered as smooth hands stroked down his chest to his thighs. "Yes," he whispered on an exhale that may have been a sigh.

"Then open your eyes," commanded the boy.

Harry's dilated vision took in the older boy's features and dark hair. There was something familiar about him, but Harry wasn't sure who he was.

The boy stopped what he was doing and pulled away, kneeling over Harry, astride his waist, idly dragging his fingertips across Harry's nipples, to his navel, and over his erection with careless touches. Waiting.

"Don't you know who I am?" he asked, as Harry shivered and arched under him.

"No." Harry gasped as a strong hand closed around his cock.

"Yes, you do," teased the dark haired boy. "Think. Look around."

Harry looked around the dark stone walls, to the musty corners of the room. They were obviously in Hogwarts, deep underground. His eyes were drawn to the frieze above the arched doorway, of a snake.

No, not a snake. A basilisk.

The Chamber of Secrets.

The boy smiled menacingly down at him, squeezing his handful of cock hard, as Harry tensed under him. "Do you remember me now?"

Harry tried to pull away but found he couldn't move, as fear and bile began to rise in his stomach. "Tom," he gasped in horror. "Tom Riddle."

"That's right. And I have you just where I want you. Naked. Vulnerable," Tom grinned as he stroked Harry's erection. "Aroused. You pathetic piece of trash. Look how you want me, your enemy, who wants nothing more than to kill you. Dreaming about me fucking you. You're disgusting. No wonder no one will touch you."

Harry tried to struggle but found he couldn't move at all. Like so many nightmares, he was frozen in place.

Tom laughed at him, a harsh sound that dripped evil satisfaction. "I can't believe you're a disgusting perverted faggot. You **want** me. It's so perfect. You're revolting. Worthless." He sneered into Harry's ear as he continued to touch the younger boy's body.

Harry couldn't move but somehow his body still managed to react to the erotic stimulation and it stayed aroused even as nausea rose up in his gut.

"You'll always be alone now," Tom hissed as his hands on Harry's cock moved faster and harsher. "You'll always be mine. No matter what. Even if you somehow kill me. You'll always be in my control. You can't defeat me here. I'll always win. I'll always have this. You'll never love anyone. Never be able to share your body. Each drop of arousal in your blood will be tainted by guilt and horror from this nightmare..."

He grinned as Harry whimpered and arched up into his hands, clearly unable to control the reactions of his body.

"You'll always be alone," Tom whispered as he licked Harry's cheek.

Harry was filled with horror. He was ashamed. He felt manipulated and violated and he couldn't help it, he was going to come. He felt so disgusted and betrayed by his body.

Tom pressed against him as Harry started to climax and quietly hissed, " _Virulentus Somnius_." The words seemed to burrow into Harry's brain like maggots.

Harry awoke screaming, just as he had four years ago, in the final throes of orgasm, with Voldemort's laughter ringing in his ears.


	7. Chapter 7

4 AM, Day 5

Severus had had no idea what to expect. Knowing Voldemort, and that Harry's nightmares had something to do with sex, he had expected the worst. The previous night that they took the potion, it had been as if he was Harry, in Harry's dreams. Feeling what he felt and seeing what he saw. Tonight Severus found himself conscious of the fact that he was dreaming. He was in a dark room, with a large bed in the middle. He approached slowly and stood at the foot of the bed, watching Harry be skillfully aroused by Tom Riddle.

He was amazed at the deviousness of Voldemort's plan, and sickened as he watched the Dark Lord manipulate and humiliate the younger version of Harry. It was all so clear now: Harry's self-loathing, repression, sense of helplessness...

Severus awoke when Harry did, as if he'd been bodily jerked out of a Muggle cinema, mid-show. He wrapped his arms around the distraught young man next to him, smoothing his hair back from his sweaty face and murmuring calming words. He briefly drew away to grasp his wand from the bedside table and whisper the cleansing charm for the sheets and pajamas before Harry noticed. Exhausted and never fully waking, Harry fell back to sleep in the embrace of his arms. Severus remained awake.

Half of him was seething with barely controlled fury, fanned even hotter with the frustrating knowledge that there was no one to vent his anger on – the author of this horrible curse was already dead, as were his servants. There was nothing more he could do to them for revenge.

The more logical portion of his mind was busily replaying the details of the dream, until he could clearly hear Voldemort's whispered curse of _Virulentus Somnius_. Severus had never heard of that curse.

_Poisonous dreams indeed... A curse over four years old, embedded in the subconscious while sleeping... How in Merlin's name can we counteract it?_

He pulled Harry closer and gently pressed his lips to Harry's temple.

_We'll find something. Neither of us ever gives up. I won't stop working on this until you're free... The more I see into your mind, the more I fall into you..._

He pulled himself together a moment later, halting his sentimentality. _When did I turn into such a cliche? Next thing you know, I'll be quoting love poetry. What happened to the wonderful bastard I used to be?_

_I had forgotten what it was like to feel this much for someone else._

Leaving off, Severus turned to the comfort of anger to escape his more confusing emotions.

_What a manipulative fiend Lord Voldemort was... I suppose it could have been worse if he'd actually raped the boy in waking life. But such a dream was bad enough, and not sufficiently dissimilar for comfort. It's as if he raped Harry's mind. For all his evilness, I hadn't really thought the Dark Lord that subtle. Perhaps Lucius suggested it; take the boy apart by making him feel alone, unworthy of being loved, disgusting..._

_Gods. I so want to prove to him that it's not true. That he isn't like that. Not broken. Not evil. Not toxic enough to kill those he desires._

_Like Draco Malfoy. Such luminous, youthful beauty..._

_I must be kidding myself to think Harry could ever be attracted to me._

Severus disentangled his limbs from Harry's with care. The young man seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so he made himself some tea and selected a book to read, returning to his bedroom, close enough to be nearby when Harry awoke.

He secretly enjoyed good Muggle literature; the stories were pointless and soothing and gave him something to think about while he stirred his potions. This was one of his favorites, read many times, and even if it was by an uncouth American at least it was suitably old. He liked the potions aspect of it also, of course, even if the drippy romance was off-putting. He was damned if he was going to identify with either romantic lead; he was already internally disgusted at how much his emotions had begun to resemble the sappy hero's.

Some hours later Severus realized he'd stopped reading and was just staring at the young man sleeping in his bed. He forced his attention back to the pages in front of him. His mind continued to wander a fair bit as he read, idly trying to think of possible counter-curses and ranting about the Dark Lord. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost between the layers of the familiar story and the current situation.

_Toxic seductions. So evil, so long lasting... Voldemort as our very own Doctor Rappachini, whose subtle poisons persist even beyond his death..._

Harry began to stir, bringing Severus back to the present. He watched as the young man stretched and rubbed his eyes, yawned, and slowly opened them to squint at the world suspiciously. He was facing away from where Severus sat, looking at the empty space on the other side of the bed. His expression was mostly unreadable, but he seemed upset.

Severus cleared his throat; Harry didn't seem surprised to see him sitting there. He started to say something, but Harry held up his hand.

Avoiding eye contact, Harry mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it. Yet. Please. I need to think," as he got out of bed, picked up his dressing gown, and put on his glasses.

Severus sat, watching, until Harry reached the doorway. "Take all the time you wish. I'll be here when you need me."

Harry nodded and left Severus' rooms.

*****

5 PM, Day 5

Ten hours later, as the stars began to weakly shine through the cold winter solstice sky, Harry was seated on the floor of an abandoned room near the top of the Astronomy Tower. After the first few hours of thinking, he had wanted nothing more in the world than to stop thinking permanently. Or to kill someone. Or destroy something. But definitely no more thinking.

Unfortunately, there was no one nearby to kill. He ruefully acknowledged that he probably wouldn't be able to enjoy it even if there was. There was also nothing to destroy. But he had his wand and he wasn't a wizard for nothing.

A few old rags in the corners were easily transfigured into empty bottles. They flew across the room, smashed into the stone wall opposite with a brilliant crashing noise and spray of glass. There was a slight pause to dig out the stray shards that had bounced back and embedded themselves in his skin.

A quick flick of the wand repaired the bottles. A weak healing charm stopped the blood. Then the bottles flew and shattered again.

And again. And again. And again.

He concentrated on hitting the exact same spot on the wall, on creating as much or as little spray as possible, on removing the glass from his skin with the least amount of fuss. It was good to think about such small things.

After a while his arms hurt from the repetitive throwing motion and the inexpertly healed wounds, and he was tired and lightheaded from not eating all day. He didn't want to leave the room. He wondered if Snape would come looking for him and if he wanted to be found. He was beginning to feel trapped again, stuck in the tower. In the castle. In his life. Waiting for Snape to rescue him. Or something.

He looked at his arms and hands and felt the scratch on his face that he'd had to conjure a mirror to remove the glass from (after which he had erected a shield around his face – no need to be self-destructive, even if he was capable of fixing the damage later.)

_When did I get like this? This isn't all from some fucked up curse. Some of this is me. Maybe all of it's me. Maybe it started as a curse, but now it's just me._

No. Stop thinking.

I'd better go get something to properly heal these cuts, before anyone gets suspicious.

*****

8 PM, Day 5

Harry avoided everyone at dinner, ducking into the kitchens to grab some food and return to his rooms instead. He hated his rooms. They were sterile and empty and cold. _Like my soul,_ he thought.

_Oh please. How much more melodramatic can you get?_

He was debating between the Muggle bandages in his bathroom or looking up a better healing spell in one of his old textbooks when the knock he was semi-expecting sounded at his door.

He was surprised, and admittedly more than a little disappointed, when it was Madam Pomfrey stopping by to see how he was feeling and why he hadn't been at meals regularly. As he shut the door behind her half an hour and some circumlocutious explanations later, he realized that she had never paid him a house call to see how he was doing before. She had implied while healing his cuts that Snape wasn't taking care of him properly, and Harry had felt a wave of anger pass through him.

_Of course Severus is taking care of me. Better than anyone ever has. He's the only one that cares about me..._

I wonder what he's been doing all day and if he feels as lonely as I do, without him. Like something is missing.

I should just go see him. I can't put this off any longer.

*****

A few minutes later Harry was knocking quietly at Snape's door. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, but determined to face things and to talk about it all. Well, almost all. Snape still didn't need to know anything about his recent messed up desires.

The door opened and Snape stood looking down at him, his expression unreadable. He ushered Harry into the sitting room, which was cluttered with books of various sizes, shapes, and degrees of musty smell.

Harry turned to face him, brow quirking in curiosity. "Been busy, have you? What are you researching?"

Snape hesitated a moment, then answered, "Just following an idea. Nothing to get excited about."

Harry's eyes flitted over the titles of the books, taking in the potions manuscripts, botanical encyclopedias, Italian and Latin lexicons.

"I'm not stupid you know," he said irritably. "I know you've been working on the curse. What are you researching? What does any of this have to do with Italian flowers?" he asked, picking up one of the largest books.

Snape's face took on its characteristic sneer, but his eyes glinted with tell-tale amusement as he drawled, "Crabby again, Mr. Potter? Still not sleeping well? Long day of mentally taxing activity? Pining away in want of my company?"

A snort of laughter vented Harry's bad mood. "I suppose you could say that. All of the above."

Snape's expression softened as he asked, "And are you done thinking then? Are you ready to talk about last night's dreams?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But I don't think I'll ever be ready. So here I am." He sat down on the couch and began to fiddle with the cushions. He spoke rapidly and fixed his gaze on the fireplace. "I don't know where to begin. I know it was a curse; you were right about that. But... I don't know if it's still a curse. I think it's just me, now."

Snape removed a small wine glass from a cabinet and filled it from a bottle on his coffee table, as well as the empty glass already there. "Port," he said, in answer to Harry's quizzical look. "I find it helps loosen the tongue."

Harry blushed slightly, thinking about Snape's tongue. They sat and sipped their drinks for a few minutes.

Snape broke the silence. "Perhaps it would be easier if I told you what I've been thinking about?" Harry nodded, so he continued. "It seems to me that there are a few confusing aspects to this curse: one, that it was cast in your dream itself. Perhaps your unique connection with Voldemort can explain that away, though. Two, that it was such an effective curse and has lasted so long past Lord Voldemort's death. Three, that it seems to have become worse once you killed Lucius Malfoy. Maybe that was simply because your mind was less occupied and therefore less fatigued when you went to bed. Four, that you are unable to talk about it, and that whenever you try, you become, er, emotionally distraught," he finished diplomatically.

Harry made a face. "You mean I burst into tears like a hormonal teenage girl."

"Yes. I've been thinking about that as well. Not that there is anything wrong with crying," Snape hurriedly added. "But I think it's a combination of your fragile emotional state from the sleep deprivation and the stress of confronting something more fearsome to most of us than death – shame."

Harry looked surprised at this, so Snape explained. "Shame is something irrational and deep in your psyche. It's difficult to make yourself want to confront shame long enough to overcome it. Most people, myself included, would rather sweep it under the rug rather than even admit that shame exists. It is one thing to own up to an action or an event that makes you feel ashamed, but many of us even feel ashamed of the shame itself. Especially when logic tells us that it wasn't our fault, but deep down we don't believe it."

Harry's fingers began to unravel the tassel on the pillow in his lap. "So what do you think I feel ashamed about then?"

Snape gave him an impatient look. "I think in order for you to get over it, you should be the one to answer that question. Honestly. And fully. In my experience, the only way to overcome feelings of shame is to admit them out loud and force yourself to talk about them."

Harry pouted for a minute, then got up to refill his glass, and flopped back down on the couch testily. "Fine. When I woke up this morning all I wanted to do was run away from you so I could think about it in peace. And after I'd thought about it for a little while, all I wanted to do was destroy someone or something. It makes me sick to think about. It makes me feel like I'm going to lose control. I want to hurt someone. Something. Myself."

Snape raised his eyebrows, but didn't look truly surprised at Harry's bitter admission. "What is it that makes you feel like that?"

Harry sputtered a few times before he hesitantly, angrily, confessed. "I... I wanted him. In the dream. In all of the dreams. Every even vaguely sexy dream I've ever had turns into that dream."

He took a few deep breaths before continuing, rage building as his voice wavered and became even quieter. "He touched me and I liked it and it makes me sick." He fixed his gaze on the fire, refusing to look anywhere near Snape.

"That curse made me terrified to feel anything for anyone, love or desire. Even friendship. When he killed Malfoy, it made me afraid to ever care about anyone, least something bad happen to them. I pushed away all my friends. I lost everyone. And now I'm so alone..."

"And I'm so disgusted. I could never tell anyone. I can't believe I'm telling you, but you've seen it, in the dream. I can't believe how sick I am to feel this way."

Snape started to say something but Harry cut him off, gaining momentum as the words spilled out from his lips. "I know it was a curse. That it's not my fault. But the way my body reacted... That's my fault. And I know Voldemort was manipulating me. But still; it's my fault. I should have, I don't know, pushed him away. Been more horrified by what he was doing. Anything but aroused."

Snape's voice, soft and warm, tugged him back from is self-loathing. "You were fifteen. And no one's body is ever entirely under their control. Regardless of whether you were in control or not, **you** didn't do anything. Lord Voldemort did." He sighed. "Harry, it's perfectly normal that you would feel that way. But it's also perfectly wrong. You must forgive yourself and let go of it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Save the platitudes. I know all that, in my head. Just not, well, deeper. There's not exactly much incentive to not wallow in it. All those dreams of being helpless... I **was** helpless."

"You were a child! Fighting the most evil wizard of our time. Of course you were helpless, you twit! But you did well. You always thought of something. You survived. And eventually you did defeat him. You're quite resourceful."

Harry looked at the other man for the first time since they'd started talking. "You really mean that, don't you? You don't say things like that just to make people feel better." His thoughts meandered a bit, trying to take in the surprising compliment before deflecting it.

"Anyhow. It's still disgusting. Wrong. I feel so... Contaminated. Filthy. And people can sense it; I don't really have any friends. No one's ever liked me. I've never even kissed anyone, never touched anyone. No one wants me and never will."

"You are quite wrong. Someone will," Snape rebutted. "How could they not?" he added as if to himself.

Harry took a deep breath. "Do you? Want me?"

Snape was silent for several long minutes before his deep, velvety voice answered. "Harry... Yes. I do. But I know you don't want me. It's all right; someone more your age would be better for you."

"No!" Harry blurted before he had time to get nervous or think about where their conversation was headed. All that mattered to him was proving Snape wrong. "I do. And you're wrong. I'm older than everyone my age; I've already filled my life's destiny." He paused a moment to consider what he'd just said. "Just like you, Severus. We're finished. And we have to make something new out of our lives, or go on feeling hollow and empty... Or die."

Snape abruptly realized that their discussion had veered into dangerous ground; it was too much, too soon, and not at all what they needed to be talking about at the moment.

He refilled his glass and cleared his throat, avoiding Harry's intent gaze. In a voice without a trace of emotion, he said, “Well. Have you talked enough about the things causing you to feel ashamed or is there more?"

Harry's disappointment at Snape's change of topic mutated into indignation by the time the other man had finished speaking. _How dare he act like he can ignore what I just said!_ he thought, rage flooding through his body. He picked up the bottle from the table and poured the last of the contents into his glass, answering in a hard voice, "No, I suppose my petty little problems have been covered enough for tonight."

Snape scowled at him, but before he said a single word his expression made something snap in Harry. Before they knew it, the bottle in Harry's hand was flying toward the fireplace and shattering to pieces.

"Oh fuck!" Harry gasped, stunned at his loss of control. He cringed. "Um, sorry?"

Snape blinked at him in shock for a second.

Harry drew out his wand and with a well-practiced flick the mess was gone.

"That was... Abrupt," Snape said finally. "And a quite well practiced clean-up," he added, quirking an eyebrow.

Harry gave him a sheepish look. "That's what I did today. I've been a bit, well, frustrated. I wanted to break something. So I did. Several things. Repeatedly."

Snape laughed. "Wine bottles? That's creative, anyhow. Didn't any of the glass hit you?"

"Well, yes. So then I practiced my healing spells," Harry shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I guess I'm still a bit on edge. So, um. What did you do today?" he asked, picking up a nearby book.

Snape rose and took the text away from him. "There will be plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow. Don't get your hopes up; it may come to nothing. A subconscious thought simply became conscious, and I decided to see where it would lead if I let it be my guide."

Harry yawned and stood up. "All right then."

He let his eyes purposefully travel from Snape's waist, up his chest, shoulders, neck, and tilted his head back a little to linger on Snape's lips before meeting his eyes. He took a deep breath. "So whose bed do we sleep in tonight?"

"Harry..." Snape started, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. _Are you sure? Don't play with me. We don't have an excuse to share a bed tonight._ "Do you want to take any sleeping potions?" he asked instead.

"No. I just want to sleep. With you," Harry answered boldly, but averted his eyes. "You can wake me up if I have a bad dream. Please?"

Snape couldn't find any part of himself that wanted to refuse as he followed Harry into the bedroom.

Still refusing to meet the other man's eyes, Harry pulled off his robes and dropped them to the floor. This time they were also followed by his jeans and t-shirt, and Harry climbed into bed wearing only his boxers. He was too embarrassed to look up to see what Snape's reaction was, if he was even watching.

After a moment, the lights went out and Harry felt Severus get into bed, staying on his side, not touching. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

_Maybe getting undressed wasn't enough of an invitation. I want to go further, but I don't know how to start. I have to do something. Anything..._

But the long day and draining conversations took their toll and Harry fell asleep in just a few minutes, despite his underlying feelings of frustration and arousal.


	8. Chapter 8

2 AM, Day 6

Harry awoke to Severus' body curled around his and hands gently touching him again. He tried to control his breathing, fighting with himself not to respond or let Severus know what kind of effect the touches were having on him.

_This is so stupid. When did I become such a coward? I'm scared to death, but I can't just lie here. What am I going to do?_

While his mind struggled with feelings of modesty, embarrassment, and pride, his body acted on its own. Harry rolled onto his back and tentatively slid his hands up Severus' chest to his shoulders as he opened his eyes.

The darkness of the room hid nothing of the fire in those deep, intense eyes. The moment seemed like it would last forever. Gently, Severus' soft lips gently came down against his own. _He's kissing me! So soft. Wonderful..._ Harry thought before the moment was over. Severus held his gaze for until Harry's hands again moved of their own accord from Severus' shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling him down again.

The next kiss was less tentative but no less gentle and Harry did his best to relax and enjoy it. Severus' lips were warm and smooth. Harry couldn't believe how wonderful something so simple felt, until his lips were suddenly met with a soft wet tongue probing between them. He opened his mouth in a quiet sigh. The amazingly sweet kiss began to morph into something passionate as the rest of Harry's body awoke from the fog clouding his brain from their first kiss.

His skin seemed to burst into flame; he could feel every millimeter where Severus' body pressed against his. Desire like nothing he'd ever felt swept through him. He wanted it all, everything, now, and the strength of his hunger was overwhelming. Wetness leaked down his cheeks as he moaned into Severus' mouth, clutching him closer, too transported to notice.

Again Severus was the one to pull away. When Harry opened his eyes he was met with a concerned expression as Severus gently dipped his fingertips into Harry's tears.

So much emotion filled him that it felt like his chest would burst. Instead, to his dismay, Harry found his eyes overflowing again. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a shaking voice. "I just- I didn't mean to. I'm just scared."

Severus' brow creased. "Scared of what? Not of something happening to one of us?"

"No! Of, well..." Harry looked away from the intense gaze and took a deep breath, his cheeks burning. "I don't know what I'm doing. At all," he admitted. "It was true, what I said before. No one's ever, um, kissed me before. I don't know what to do."

Severus smiled a little and answered in a velvety purr, "You're doing everything right so far. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Any time you want to stop, I promise it will be all right with me. Even if you just want to pause for a minute." His fingertips wiped away the moist tracks on the young man's face until Harry lifted his lips to kiss Severus again, pulling him close.

Their kisses went on and on, one melting into the other, soft kisses, tongues gently tasting each other's mouths. Every time the kisses started to grow more fervent, Severus pulled back, slowed down, and dropped tiny, soft kisses all over Harry's face. He was relieved that the other man didn't seem to want to go any faster than he wanted to, but at the same time found himself torn between the desire to lose himself in the cloying sweetness and the desire for more.

His hands grew more bold, feeling the shape of Severus' back and arms, drifting down to his waist, but not further before he got embarrassed. On their way back up, Harry suddenly found his wayward hands unbuttoning Severus' pajama top.

Severus held still until he finished, then shrugged off the shirt and rolled onto his back, pulling Harry up on top of him. The shock of warm bare skin against his own made Harry gasp, and the hardness of the erection pushing next to his own made him moan. Even through two layers of flannel, the intimate contact took his breath away.

Severus gave him a seductive smirk as his hands stroked Harry's back. "Shall I stop?"

Harry grinned back as he leaned forward and nipped at Severus' neck as an answer. His skin tasted wonderful, so Harry licked and sucked a trail up to an earlobe. When he gently pulled it into his mouth, Severus gasped and pushed his hips up into Harry's, breaking the younger man's concentration. Instinctively, Harry pushed down and they both moaned at the sensation.

Severus pulled him down for a deep kiss, more passionate than the previous ones, as if he wanted to taste every bit of Harry's mouth, sliding his tongue along Harry's and pulsing it into his mouth with the same slow thrusting rhythm as their hips.

Harry's head reeled for a moment, dizzy. _Oh yes! So good. Want this. Want you..._ , he thought as their bodies ground into each other. Sensations and emotions crashed through him like trains on a collision course. _Too fast!_

"Wait. Stop," Harry panted, pushing himself away to lay next to Severus with his eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" Harry could hear the concern in Severus' voice and his accelerated breathing as well.

"Nothing. I just- I'm too close. I don't want it to be over yet," he confessed.

Something like the evil chuckle Harry remembered from class, but softer and infinitely more arousing, was breathed into his neck as Severus bent over him. "It won't be over until you want it to be, I promise," he said, licking Harry's neck.

Harry moved his head to the side to give Severus better access and moaned at the sensations flooding through him. Severus' hands began to wander over his chest and arms, barely grazing the skin with his fingertips, making Harry shiver and sigh uncontrollably.

"I thought. You said. We could stop. Any time."

Severus immediately moved back from Harry, who opened his eyes to search Severus' expression, confused.

"Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you," the older man apologized with some effort, withdrawing to the other side of the bed.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to slow down his madly beating heart. "Wait," he pleaded, reaching out to grab Severus by the wrist. "I didn't mean... I just needed to catch my breath. It's just really overwhelming. I feel- Gods, I don't know! I feel like everything in me is moving a billion miles a second. Like I can't take much more before I completely fall apart."

The corner of Severus' mouth quirked up. "That's how you're supposed to feel," he said in a voice that Harry had never heard before. Smokey. Seductive. "I'm thrilled to hear that's how I made you feel. You make me feel the same way."

His words seemed to reach into Harry and twist his insides around. He could feel the pulse in his body quicken again, and couldn't stop the slight whimper that escaped his lips. "Please," he heard himself ask, not entirely certain what he was asking.

Severus moved closer, pushing the blankets fully off of the bed, looking at Harry in the moonlight. At his body. Harry wondered how visible the blush covering his face and creeping down his chest was, and why he felt both horribly nervous and yet pleased that Severus would want to look at him.

He reached up to trail his fingers across Severus' skin, feeling the few scattered dark hairs on his chest, accenting the alabaster paleness. Harry's hands wandered up the smooth chest, lightly skimming over a nipple that made Severus suck in a shallow breath. Harry noted that for later. He continued up the long neck to the angular face, fingers tangling in the inky, silky black hair, eyes locked on the dark ones above him.

"You're so beautiful to me," Harry whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

Severus groaned, returning his body to its former position on top of Harry's, grinding their erections together. His hands stroked a path from Harry's collarbone, down his slim chest, to his nipple. Clever fingers teased and pinched it lightly, making Harry gasp. As Severus' tongue twined around Harry's, he shifted his hands down the young man's stomach to the waistband of his boxers.

And waited.

Harry was barely conscious of the kisses stopping, lost in the fire Severus' hands were stoking in his body. One hand went away, only to come back on Harry's thigh, tickling sensitive flesh and then sliding slowly up over flannel. It paused as it rested alongside his cock; Harry's hips arched uncontrollably as his eyes locked onto Severus'.

"Oh please," he moaned, gasping as the strong hand responded, closing around his aching hardness.

Severus' hand stroked him slowly through the flannel as he dropped light kisses on Harry's forehead, temple, and neck. Harry's hands clutched onto Severus' arms, grasping for some stability as he moaned and writhed in his lover's hands.

"Oh god, please, take them off," he gasped desperately.

Fiery eyes locked onto his as Severus' hands slid to his waist, pushing the fabric down as Harry compliantly lifted his hips off the bed. Then those cool, smooth fingers were on his flesh, exploring every inch of his cock, stroking up and down. Finally Severus encircled him completely in a firm grip, and began to stroke him in earnest.

Harry's entire body was so focused, so tense, he knew he couldn't hold out for very long. He twined his arms around Severus, pulling him close for another kiss, desperate and hungry. On each exhale a keening sound escaped from deep in his throat, faster and faster as his eyes squeezed shut. He felt himself hovering on the edge of something terrifying and exquisite, Severus' body covering his own as he tenderly kissed Harry's face.

Severus' hands moved faster and faster until finally Harry's nerves could take no more. He was pulled into a firm embrace as he convulsed and howled his release in a wordless litany, blind to everything but the pleasure of his orgasm.

Harry's brain returned to his body to find his head pillowed on Severus' chest, arms wrapped around him. His toes tingled, his eyelids tingled; it felt like every cell in his body had climaxed and was still vibrating with afterglow. He sighed and smiled against Severus' chest, deeply content and satisfied.

"Back with me?"

Severus' hand smoothed down his back and Harry snuggled closer. "Mmmm," he mumbled, letting his fingers trail lightly down the other man's chest.

Severus sighed and covered Harry's hand with his own, trapping it before it could go any lower. He pulled the young man up and kissed him. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured against Harry's mouth, covering it with tiny kisses.

"I've never felt anything like that. Ever," Harry admitted.

Severus pulled back a little in surprise. "Ever? Not even by yourself?"

Harry shook his head. "Not like that. I've done it a few times, but... It's not easy to do without thinking of anyone. I tried every now and then but it was too hard. Once I thought of Malfoy, after he was gone. I thought it couldn't hurt. But I felt so terrible afterward. Why do you think I spent so much time flying and studying? I couldn't do anything about it and I was afraid of what would happen if I went to sleep frustrated," he explained simply.

Severus squeezed him tighter. "That's all behind you now. You're free to be as lustful as anyone else. No one can hurt you or anyone you desire."

Harry nodded. A moment later he dozed off in Severus' arms, safe and satiated.

*****

10 AM, Day 6

Harry awoke late the next morning, naked and sticky and inordinately pleased with himself. Also alone; Severus had apparently already woken up. He smiled at the pillows. He grinned at the stone walls. He beamed at the bedroom.

_I had sex! Finally! It finally happened!_

He stretched his arms over his head and untangled his legs from the sheets. He called Severus' name but there was no answer, so he got out of bed and bounced into the shower. He smiled at the toilet and bathtub, and the mirror winked back at him when he grinned at it.

Thirty minutes later he noticed he was getting a cramp in his cheeks from grinning so hard but he just couldn't stop. _I'm not going to be able to leave this room. Ever._ He contemplated for a moment what a tragedy it would be if he could never leave Severus' bedroom. His smile grew even bigger.

_Everyone will know the moment they see me and this dorky grin. And if they don't know, I'll shout it at them, scream it from the parapets, take out a notice in the paper: "Boy Who Lived Finally Gets Laid!"_

_Well, mostly. Perhaps not by strict definitions, but last night certainly was enough to qualify as a good beginning._

_Although I hardly got to do anything to him. I hope he didn't mind very much. Shit, I guess I just kind of fell asleep, didn't I? I hope he isn't angry. I'll make it up to him next time._

_I hope there's a next time... Where did Severus go? Why did he leave me? I hope he doesn't think this was a mistake. Gods, please, **please** don't let him think that. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't._

_Who am I trying to convince here, Severus or myself?_

_Maybe it **was** a mistake. What if I've ruined everything, whatever it is that's been going on between us? I've told him so much, he's seen so much inside my head. What if he doesn't feel about me the way I feel about him?_

_How do I feel about him?_

_Fuck. I think I might love him. I'm not sure I know what love is, but... Friendship. Plus lust. And maybe something more, that I can't quite put my finger on. But what if one of us wants more than the other? How will we avoid hurting each other in the end?_

_Does it have to end?_

_I hate being so awkward, so unsure of what to do. So embarrassed... He was even my first kiss. He didn't seem surprised, but I wonder what he thinks now, in the light of day. About me being so untouched..._

_My head is spinning and my body is still hungry for him... I feel so utterly vulnerable. It's terrifying._

_And I can still feel his hands everywhere on my skin._

*****

11 AM, Day 6

Severus was in the library again. _Working,_ he reminded himself, wrenching his unruly thoughts from memories of last night and onto the books in front of him.

_Lucius definitely thought up this curse. Narcissa's family was Italian originally, from somewhere in the Northern region, I seem to recall... Which means the cure, if there is one, probably comes from plants native to that area. Assuming I'm on the right track at all. A pity none of these herbals are arranged geographically..._

_Every time I get in bed with him, I completely lose control. I just can't stop touching him. He's too young, too fragile right now. I don't want to hurt him. But gods - I want to prove to him that he's not broken, not poisonous. He's beautiful. Pure._

_And his skin is addictive. And the noises he makes. And the way he responds..._

_I hope last night wasn't a mistake. I hope he doesn't regret it._

_I hope he doesn't regret that it was me. I can't accept that he wants me that way. Me, of all people._

_This is moving too fast. It's not even been a week and I'm in love. Love. Me. With Harry bloody Potter. Of all the unexpected things in the universe, that's the last one I'd have thought possible._

_Focus! This isn't helping anything. Read._

_I hope he's not upset that I left him in bed. I know he's exhausted. By all rights I should be too. But he was sleeping so soundly that I didn't want to wake him. And for once, I don't think he was dreaming of anything at all. I hope not anyway._

_He deserves so much. To be whole and happy and at peace. And to be loved. So much more than I could ever give him..._

_But. If no one else wants him... And if he seems to want me, for whatever reason... Who am I to push him away? I may not deserve him but I'll try._

_I want to more than anything I've ever wanted._

*****

11 AM, Day 6

Harry stumbled into the library. One glance and Severus took in the conflicting expressions on his face; eyes filled with fear but mouth twitching and threatening to break into a grin.

"Sleep well?" Severus asked with a sparkle in his eyes that did not match his dry tone.

Harry nodded and stretched his arms over his head, ginning hugely, as he turned slightly pink. "I did. I'm sorry you, uh, didn't," he said somewhat questioningly.

Snape took his meaning. "I was satisfied."

Harry grinned again and looked at his feet. "Well, I hope you'll be more satisfied the next time. If there is a next time," he added when Severus failed to respond.

"Harry... We should talk about this. And we should finish with the curse. But one thing at a time. I suggest we deal with that first, if it's all right with you?"

Harry nodded quickly, disappointed by Snape's businesslike tone.

Snape continued. "I've gathered that this curse was conceived by Lucius Malfoy. Which may or may not have had an effect on its power once he was killed. If it did, that would explain why things got worse afterward. If not, well, no matter unless it complicates things further." He took a deep breath.

"I know this is going to sound like a highly fanciful shot in the dark at best, but I've learned over the years that following one's intuition is most valuable in counteracting the Dark Arts; the unconscious mind reveals patterns the conscious, logical mind cannot see."

"A few elements of an old story reminded me of your curse. Narcissa Malfoy's family was Italian. So was the story, which is about a toxic garden and the young girl who tended it. Some herbals seem to indicate a hint of underlying truth in the tale, that an extract of a highly deadly flower may be both a deadly poison and an antidote."

"I remember Lucius once mentioning something in passing as we discussed Dark potions, about a 'fiori della morte,' a 'flower of death,' found in the highest mountains near where Narcissa's family was from. Only those who had been raised in the area could get close to the flower at all without succumbing to its toxic vapors. No stranger could touch it and live."

Severus smiled wryly. "Lucius liked to combine subtlety and poetry into his curses, natural beauty and evil mixed in equal parts. To make them truly an art. He told me about the flower long before he knew I was a spy, but near the time Voldemort must have cursed you. I'm sure he thought I would appreciate the twisted beauty of such a curse and the only possible antidote."

"However, having had this idea, I don't think there is a way to test it except by trying. I have a colleague in Italy who I contacted earlier this morning and she is owling me some of the flower extract. One of the books I found from the 1300s has a potion recipe that mentioned both the flower and nightmares in an opening poem. It is all a guess, though, and I don't like guessing."

Snape paused a few moments. "It is, however, a conjecture based on the available facts, and matches them quite well. I believe it's quite likely to be the solution we are seeking. But it's also dangerous. I can't find any way to counteract the fumes of the flower. At all."

That it would kill Harry if it did not cure him hung in the air, unsaid.

Harry thought about it for a while, staring out the library window. "It seems to fit all of the things we know," he said slowly. "It seems almost too easy that you're the one helping me with this and that it's a potion that's the cure. But it's worth trying. I'm willing to take the risk."

_'Fiori della morte'... And for once, I actually feel like I might have something to live for, with Severus. I hate it when life is ironic._

*****

1 PM, Day 6

Around lunchtime the owl came, a small brown one carrying a scroll and a dragonhide pouch sealed with several binding and containment spells to prevent the flower fumes from killing anything. Harry read the poem in Severus' herbal, consulting the dictionary several times to help with the Latin he didn't know. His word-for-word translation was vague, but the link that Snape had mentioned was clear.

It seemed that the potion was relatively simple, if one discounted the fact that one ingredient was deadly to everyone except the afflicted. Harry really hoped that was him, or he was about to be afflicted with something far worse.

_I wonder if I should get my affairs in order... Oh wait, I don't have any to begin with. And it's not like I haven't been contemplating death on a daily basis for years. Why is this any different? Aren't I meant to be brave?_

_Not now,_ said a tiny voice in his head. _Now you want to live. Before you didn't care; you were alone. Now there's Severus._

Snape appeared as if invoked and asked if Harry was ready to assist in the Potions lab. Harry trailed behind, feet feeling leaden.

Less than an hour later, Snape had prepared the base of the potion. All that was left was the essence of the _fiori della morte_. Although they doubted it would work, Harry would cast a spell that effectively surrounded him with a protective bubble, to prevent him from breathing the perfume, and wear dragonhide gloves.

Snape had to leave the room entirely from the moment the cautionary charms were taken off the package until the potion was consumed by Harry and the room and equipment were cleaned. His colleague's letter had been quite clear about that. He enchanted the heavy door to be transparent so he could watch.

Snape tidied up the worktable, leaving out only the package, cauldron, spoon, and a goblet. They went over the instructions again. Harry would remove the charms, unwrap the vial, let the vapor in it waft over the contents of the cauldron, where they would condense and rain into the potion. He would stir precisely three times clockwise, draw an arcane symbol onto the surface of the liquid, and pour the contents into the goblet. He would then perform the clean-up spells, drink the liquid in one gulp, and cast the clean-up spells again. So that Snape could rush in as quickly as possible if anything should go wrong was left unspoken.

Harry would have chafed at the fourth reiteration of the simple details but he was so nervous that he felt like he was going to be sick. Everything was ready. Snape was not walking away from the table, Harry noticed, breaking his stare at the shimmering dragonhide parcel.

Harry cleared his throat and was embarrassed at how wavery his voice was. "We didn't talk about, um, last night yet."

Snape's eyes burned into his. "We'll do it after you drink the potion."

Harry swallowed. "I wanted to say-"

Snape shook his head, interrupting. "No. Later. After you finish. We **will** talk."

Harry nodded. He watched his hand reach out, in slow motion, to Snape's and hold it briefly.

The other man's face was an emotionless mask, although a muscle in his jaw twitched. He squeezed Harry's hand gently, before taking a deep breath. Snape slowly let go and stepped away.

The sound of the door closing seemed to echo in Harry's ears as he turned to the worktable.

Harry cast the protection spell and put on the gloves. _Don't think; just do it._ He took up the package and disabled the charms.

Nothing happened.

He unwrapped the parcel, revealing a small vial of brilliant magenta gas. Still nothing.

He removed the stopper at arms length, over the cauldron. Nothing.

He realized he wasn't breathing and took a tentative breath. Nothing happened.

Carefully, but as quickly as he could, he followed every syllable of Snape's instructions. He wafted. Stirred. Drew the symbol. Poured. Cast the cleansing spells.

He paused to contemplate the goblet before him, of a potion so lethal that none but the accursed could be in the same room with it, not even its residue on a spoon.

Nothing happened.

_It could be that the particles aren't really moving through the air fast enough to have inhaled it yet. Or maybe the bubble charm is working. Or the fumes are be slower acting than they thought..._

He glanced up at the temporarily-transparent door to see if Snape was still there. The man looked more relieved than Harry had ever seen him look, with the possible exception of a few moments during the war. He gave Harry a brief smile and nodded, clearly wanting him to drink the potion.

So he did.

Nothing happened.

He incanted the cleaning spells again, took off the gloves, and removed the bubble charm. Snape reentered the room.

Harry's world tilted and swooped and blurred. Snape's voice echoed nonsense in his head, and Harry felt his body fall to the ground as if he were watching it happen from miles and miles away, before everything faded to blackness.

*****

2 PM, Day 6

Severus walked into the classroom after Harry cast the final clean-up charm. "That went well," he said. "You prepared the potion flawlessly, from what I saw." He turned toward Harry in time to see him sway slightly, with a far-away look in his eyes, before he crumpled to the ground.

Severus caught hold of him. And did not think. If he did not think he would not panic, so he very carefully did not think at all.

After a few moments, he realized Harry's chest was still rising and falling with breath. _Unconscious then, not dead,_ Severus thought.

Harry twitched. He coughed.

Still unconscious, Harry gasped and coughed again, a horrible sound expelling all the air from his lungs explosively. A grey mist seeped out of his mouth, briefly formed the vague shape of a skull, and dissipated.

Severus carefully picked him up and carried Harry to bed.

*****

6 PM, Day 6

Harry awoke with what felt like the worst hangover of his entire life. His heartbeat pounding in his ears was too loud to bear. His breath was the howl of a windstorm. He couldn't even imagine moving. His lungs felt like he'd inhaled not only smoke but ashes.

At least he wasn't in the infirmary. This bed smelled different. Familiar.

He fell back to sleep.

*****

10 PM, Day 6

Severus woke up in his chair by the fireplace, to Harry leaning over him and kissing him gently. He blinked for a moment. _Nice dream..._

"Not a dream," whispered Harry before kissing him again.

Severus wrapped his arms around the young man and drew him onto his lap. "I presume you're feeling better?" The head on his shoulder nodded. "Did you sleep well?" Another nod.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly, after a few minutes had passed.

Severus answered carefully, keeping any emotion out of his voice. "You brewed the potion perfectly; that you're alive proves that. Also that it was the correct antidote. You collapsed just after I came in, after coughing a few times. You exhaled some smoky air."

He paused to consider whether he should tell Harry the rest. Then again, what point was there in keeping it from him?

"The smoke you exhaled briefly formed a vague Dark Mark before it dissipated. You were still unconscious, so I carried you to bed. It's been about eight hours since you drank the potion."

There was a long pause before Harry spoke. "So you were right then. About the curse and the origin and cure." His brow wrinkled a bit as he thought. "It seemed quite easy for you."

Severus pushed him off his lap, to look him in the eye. "It was not easy. It was sheer guesswork. Something which makes me highly uncomfortable. But it was a logical solution based on what we saw in your dreams and your response to them."

Harry seemed to be getting angry about something, but Severus could only tell that from his body language; he wasn't saying a word. Suddenly Harry's stomach growled, breaking the tension.

"I have some dinner for you," Severus said, gesturing to a try on his desk. "And then you should probably try to get some more sleep." He paused. "I'm sure you won't have nightmares like that anymore."

Harry turned to look at him. Confusion clouded his expression before disappearing, replaced by resignation.

"Yes. I'll just take the food back to my rooms then, shall I?" he asked quietly.

Severus had not expected it to be so simple. "We'll talk tomorrow," he said as he passed the tray to Harry.

The young man evaded his eyes, nodding affirmative as he opened the door and left.

Severus' rooms had never before felt so empty. He poured himself a glass of port and collapsed into the chair by the fire.

It was over.


	9. Chapter 9

1 AM, Day 7

The bottle of port was empty and Severus was deep into melancholy.

_Somehow, I can't let go of these feelings. I know this isn't right and I know it's not good for either of us. But I want it._

_More than anything I've ever wanted. More than anyone. Even more than..._

_I thought that I knew love, before. But if this is love, and I know it is, then that one clearly wasn't. Or at least was a quite different, more pale kind of love. A love where I wanted him, wanted to have him, possess him, own him..._

_I just want Harry to be happy. Whole. Even if that means he wouldn't be with me. Which it will._

_The other love was all about what I needed. This is about what Harry needs._

_This cannot possibly work out. I can't love him like this. I don't love; I tarnish things. Ruin people. Harry can't love me. Whatever he's feeling is just gratitude and lust. I won't pretend that that is love._

_This must end. If it goes on much longer, it will simply hurt worse. Hurt him... I don't want to hurt him._

_What would hurt more, a love never quite born or one that's been murdered?_

_It doesn't matter. I can't do this. I can't love him and let him pretend to love me and wait until he discovers that he was wrong._

_Gods, this hurts. This time I swear I truly will never love anyone again. I mean it this time. Last time I swore that, I hadn't tasted real love._

_Now I know it will always taste of Harry..._

*****

Noon, Day 7

The snow that had fallen a few days ago had mostly melted away over the paths. Harry woke up late, feeling lethargic and sick. Less in body and more in soul. Heavy and grey, as if his head was full of nasty black slime, weighing him down.

_I knew it wasn't just some fucking curse. I knew most of it was me. Me and my sick desires._

He shuddered, thinking of Tom Riddle, and decided to go for a walk to escape. He dressed as warmly as he could and cast a heating charm on his clothes, needing to get out of the castle and stay out for as long as possible. Trudging through the snowy grounds, he decided to head for Hogsmeade.

_I knew he could never really want me. Now that it's over and the curse is gone... Of course he wouldn't. He was probably just trying to show me that my touch isn't actually lethal. It was just educational to him. He was only helping me. It was just sex._

_Why did I think it was anything more? Wasn't it just sex to me? Why did I think that I loved him? Of course it was just sex. God, I'm such a fool, kidding myself into thinking it was anything more. So naive._

_Not like that's a surprise. Of course I'm naive; I haven't had any past experience in this kind of thing. Still..._

_Why did I want it to be more than sex? I'm such a stupid romantic idiot. Just because it felt so nice to be with him. In his bed._

_No - in his arms. Or just sharing his company._

_But that's just because he was taking care of me, making me feel safe. I'm confusing gratitude with love._

_Am I?_

_Doesn't matter anyway. He never let us talk about it. And now it's over. He doesn't even want to see me. He practically asked me to leave his rooms. It's all over now that I'm "cured."_

Harry found that his feet had walked him all the way to the door of the Three Broomsticks, so he went inside. At the bar he ordered a glass of port without thinking about it.

Rosmerta have him a surprised look. "Port? Are you sure? That's usually a different professor's drink. How about an Irish coffee, as you look like you've been out walking?"

Harry cursed himself inwardly. "All right, both please," he compromised, and carried his drinks over to a table in the corner.

He downed the coffee-laced whisky to warm up and then sipped at the port, staring off into space, growing more and more sullen as he became inebriated. He hardly noticed the shadow that fell over him before someone sat down at his table.

He scowled at Snape, stubbornly waiting for him to talk first.

"Harry..." the sensual voice rumbled, and Harry felt his body shiver with anticipation.

_Damn it, no! I will not let myself give in to this. He's not even doing anything on purpose. I refuse to be so out of control. Go away! Just leave me alone._

"You don't need to watch out for me anymore," he said resentfully.

Snape's eyebrows quirked. "I know that."

"Why-" Harry clamped his mouth shut on the string of questions threatening to flood out. _Why did you help me? Why did you even want to? Why did you touch me? Why are you the only person who knows me and now you're pushing me away? Why did you act like you cared about me? Why does it hurt so much? Why does it hurt **so much**?_

He realized his chest was heaving with the effort of not saying anything. His eyes stung and burned, but he clenched his jaw and refused to let any tears fall. He was done with that now.

 _Stop being so overemotional. Just accept it. It was nothing. Now get out of here before you say anything,_ he told himself.

Snape watched him struggle to not speak, and then clumsily shove back his chair and lurch to his feet. When Harry started to put on his coat, Snape got up. "May I accompany you back? I presume you're intelligent enough to not try to Apparate in that condition."

Walk back to the castle with Snape? After last night? "No thanks. I'd rather be alone."

Harry didn't see the hurt expression that flashed across the other man's face as he turned and wove towards the door, fumbling with gloves, muffler, and hat.

A hand caught his elbow just as he wrenched open the door. "Nonetheless, I insist on seeing you safely back home," said the familiarly biting Potions Master's voice, allowing for no disagreement.

"And I said, I don't need you to watch out for me!" Harry shouted as they stepped outside and the icy twilight wind whipped the ends of his muffler into Snape's face.

"Want it or not, I'm not leaving you to stagger home drunk in the dark and get frozen to death, you idiot boy!" he snarled, gripping Harry's arm.

Harry shrugged him off. "Right, now you touch me. Fine then," he grumbled, and started off through the slushy streets.

Snape stood for a moment, as if stunned, before rushing to catch up.

*****

4 PM, Day 7

They walked in silence through Hogsmeade, past the empty fields between the castle and the village, and were nearing Hogwarts grounds when Snape's boot hit an icy patch of the road and he lost his footing.

Without thinking, Harry's wand was in his hand and _Mobilicorpus_ was on his lips.

Snape managed to look both grateful and put-out as Harry lowered him back to a standing position. "You didn't have to do that."

"No? I should have let you fall and break something? You didn't have to walk back with me in the first place," Harry retorted.

Snape scowled. "Yes, I did. You could have-"

"Been hurt? Fallen?" Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't need you to take care of me. Severus, when are you going to realize that I'm an adult? I know I'm young but I'm not a child anymore."

Snape made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort. "You're not even twenty yet."

Harry rounded on him, eyes flashing with anger. "And how old were you when you joined Voldemort?"

The older man flinched.

"That's what I thought," Harry said. "And at the time did you feel like anything less than an adult?"

Snape thought for a long moment before answering, his honesty obviously taking an effort. "No. But. I was wrong. I was far too young to make the choices I made."

"If you had chosen not to join him, would you have thought you were also too young? Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean you can blame it on being young. Everyone chooses. At all ages."

Snape regarded him with raised brows. Harry wondered if he was getting too philosophical. The alcohol was starting to wear off in the cold, but maybe he wasn't making sense.

"I know I can't say anything that will make you believe me. And lately, with the curse..." Harry cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. "I've been so... Depressed. And needy." He cleared his throat again and plowed ahead, grateful he was still tipsy enough to force the words out against his better judgment. "I needed you. But I didn't feel like a child. Especially in your bed. Ever." He forces his gaze up to meet Snape's eyes.

They burned into his, flashing even in the growing darkness. Intense. Harry began to feel quite warm, in fact.

Shape's smooth voice answered, "I didn't think of you as one. I just wanted..." He paused, finding the right words. "To protect you. To help you." Harry forgot to breathe as Snape added, "Wanted you."

"Did that change?" Harry asked quietly. "Because I still want you."

There was a long silence. Harry's shoes reclaimed his attention. He noticed he was getting cold and that it was now completely dark. The lights of the Hogwarts gates were not far off, but the two men stood surrounded by shadows.

Harry's chest felt like a hippogriff was sitting on it. After a long silence, he blinked rapidly and nodded. "All right. I'm sorry," he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. "It's really over then." He turned away and began to head towards the gates.

There was a crunch of snow behind him. "No." Snape's voice was somehow both faltering and emphatic and Harry found himself crushed in a tight embrace.

"No. Please," Severus whispered brokenly. "Not over. Just.. I'm too old for you. Not what you need," he pleaded, as if trying to convince them both.

Harry's irritation flashed back, even while caught in the delicious embrace. "Stop it. You don't get to make my decisions for me," he argued, as he turned and pressed his lips to Severus'.

They stood in the dark, kissing slowly, for several long minutes. As his body began to respond, Harry started to wonder if they were going to make it back to the castle at all. Adrenaline-fueled lust flashed through in him in a fiery wave, consuming him from the inside out. Before he could become embarrassed by it, he pressed up against Severus, feeling an answering hardness pressing into his stomach as his erection met the taller man's thigh.

"Let's go home," Severus whispered.

*****

5 PM, Day 7

The walk across the Hogwarts grounds was the longest Harry could ever remember. They held hands and occasionally stopped for a hurried kiss, making their way across the snow as quickly as was safe. Self-consciously, they let go of each other once they got close enough to the castle that someone might seem them. Harry wasn't sure whether to feel relieved that they were maintaining their privacy or hurt that Severus might be ashamed of what others would think. Mostly though, he wasn't thinking much and was pleased with the notion of relinquishing control and letting his body be in charge for once.

After an eternity in which Harry learned how uncomfortable it could be to walk for such a distance with an erection, they reached the dungeons.

Severus stopped as they neared Harry's door. "I don't know exactly what you want or what we're going to do, but whose rooms would you be most comfortable in?"

"Yours," Harry answered without hesitating. "Mine are cold and sterile and I hate them. Yours at least feel like a home."

Severus nodded and they continued to his chambers. Harry started to step back so he could undo his locking spells in private, but Severus held his hand tight and said the words out loud, implicitly giving Harry access to his rooms. Harry was touched by the amount of trust this implied, as well as pleased, given how much he had recently trusted Severus with his own secrets.

As they entered, Harry began to quiver with fear as well as desire, in more or less equal parts. He found himself torn between wanting to take things slowly and seeing what happened, and throwing himself at the other man.

Still undecided, Harry's body told his brain to shut the hell up and launched itself at the taller man, who also stood hesitating near the door. His hands reached to pull Severus down by the neck, pressing his body against the other man, kissing him deeply and clearly communicating his desire.

After a few moments of feverish kissing, Severus pulled back and started to speak but Harry interrupted him. "No. I want this. I want you. Come what may, I want this and I know you want me. Don't you?" The other man nodded without hesitating, and Harry moved in for another intense kiss. "Then stop thinking and take me to bed. Please."

Coats, mufflers, and winter robes fell to the ground, shoes and boots were kicked off as they groped their way blindly to the bedroom. Severus pulled back from Harry's kisses long enough to flick his wand at the fireplace and a few candles while Harry shrugged out of his jumper, shirt, and socks. He blushed at the reverent expression on his lover's face as he looked at Harry's body, but the flush was one of anticipation rather than embarrassment this time.

Severus hadn't said a word and seemed to be hesitant; Harry suspected that he was uncertain still. He sat on the bed, pulling Severus with him, moving backwards until he was lying on his back with the other man straddling his hips. Harry's hands explored his body, feeling his warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt, the muscles of his chest, hard nipples, shoulders, down his arms, and began to undo the cufflinks at Severus' wrists.

His concentration on the cufflinks and buttons was so thorough that he didn't notice the amusement on Severus' face until he had pushed the shirt away and thrown it off the bed. He smiled up at his lover, overwhelmed with sensations as his hands stroked Severus' skin. His hands felt huge and clumsy, hypersensitive, and he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve and every plane of the ivory flesh.

Severus was patient, letting him explore. _He's thinking too much. Holding back,_ Harry thought, suddenly filled with the desire to make Severus lose control. He shifted his body, pressing his pelvis up until it made contact. Gods, it felt so good, and doing even more was going to be so wonderful, no matter if it hurt, possibly even because it would hurt.

A sense of purpose filled him; he knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. He pulled Severus down to kiss him deeply and surprised the older man by rolling them over so that Harry was on top, their legs tangled together.

 _I'm going to make him respond if it kills me..._ With a surprising sense of power, he dove in for more hungry kisses. As he slid his tongue deeper into Severus' mouth his hands caressed everything he could reach until he found nipples, which Harry began to gently roll between his fingertips.

Severus gasped into his mouth as Harry pulled back with a grin that was unarguably feral.

"Stop thinking," he ordered. "I know what I want and I want you." The intensity of his gaze, pupils so dilated with arousal that they almost swallowed the irises, left no room for doubt.

"I just can't believe it," Severus murmured. "I never would have thought-"

"Don't think!" Harry interrupted. "That's rather the point, isn't it? If anyone's supposed to be uncertain, isn't it me?"

Severus tensed underneath him, then pushed the young man off his lap. "I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."

Harry took a deep breath and asked a question, all humor gone from his voice. "Was this just something for you to do? Was it all just an interesting project? Is that all there is between us?"

There was a long, tense pause, before Severus slowly answered. "There is respect. And... friendship."

"And in the night? Was that respect and friendship, too?" Harry whispered.

"No, Harry. That was desire."

Harry replied slowly, testing the words for their honesty. "Respect. Friendship. Desire. How is that different from love?"

A small smile pulled at Severus' mouth, but his eyes were still sad. "I don't know."

The pain in Severus' eyes tugged something deep within Harry and filled him with a fierce urge to protect him. He bent forward and gave him a gentle kiss. "Then stop being so analytical and let me love you," he murmured.

"I don't want to hurt you." Something like fear shadowed Severus' voice as he slid a hand down to grasp Harry's.

Ignoring what he knew was Severus' true meaning, he answered, "I don't care if it hurts. I know it will, some. But I trust you. I want you."

Severus' eyes held his for a long moment, evaluating.

Harry rolled his eyes, frustrated at having to convince the other man to do something they both obviously wanted. _Fine. I'll just have to tempt him into it_ , he thought, smirking as he moved to stand beside the bed.

Taking a deep breath, he let all the desire he was feeling show in his expression. He slowly ran his hands down his chest and stomach and began to unfasten his jeans. Once they were off, Harry met Severus' eyes, amused at the glazed expression on his face.

He turned around and bent over, letting the fabric of his boxers tighten across his bum as he pulled off the professor's socks. He moved again, running his hands up Severus' legs and thighs until he reached his waist, where he started patiently unbuttoning the woolen trousers. Harry tugged once, a brow raised, and Severus compliantly lifted his hips so Harry could remove them, along with his boxers.

Once Severus was naked, Harry's uncertainty came crashing back. He sat, staring at the angles and curves of the long, pale body in front of him. Naked.

The deep voice chuckled, "Lost your nerve? Or you can't think of anything else to do?"

Harry gave him a mock-glare. "I just didn't want to push you too fast. But if that's what you want..." He crawled back on the bed and bent to take one taut nipple between his lips.

Severus must have been surprised because he gasped, but the sigh that it turned into clearly expressed his approval. Harry felt drunk again, intoxicated on the powerful feeling of giving pleasure to another person. He licked and sucked at the tight little nub, pulling all sorts of wonderful sounds out of Severus, before moving to the other one and repeating the process.

He hesitated, then gently bit Severus' neck, sucking hard, pulling more of that brilliant tasting skin into his mouth. It was delicious and his senses were overwhelmed. He licked up to an earlobe, which he nibbled and sucked, then made his way to the mouth that was making all kinds of soft sighs and moans. Harry felt every sound travel down his own body to his groin.

He dove into Severus' pliant lips, the softness of lips forgotten as hungry tongues took over, tangling with each other, licking at teeth. Harry climbed on top, fitting their bodies together, grinding their erections into each other. He felt like he was flying, exhilarated.

At last Severus pulled away from their kiss, steadying the young man with a grip on his hips. "May I?" he asked, and rolled them over again. At Harry's nod, Severus grinned dangerously, and stripped off Harry's boxers before he had time to think about it.

Harry gasped and squirmed as Severus held him down with one firm hand while he licked the hollow of Harry's throat with his tongue, traveling downward. Exacting fingers confidently pinched and pulled at his nipples until he was making continuous whimpering noises, which turned to a groan as the tongue dove into his navel and wiggled, deep and hard. Severus' hair trailed down Harry's stomach and his hands tangled in it, smoothing the soft midnight silk across his skin.

Before Harry could reach for any semblance of clarity through the onslaught of new sensations, he felt what could only be that same maddening tongue lick the length of his cock as the shaft was gripped firmly in Severus' hand.

Harry was so startled he yelped.

Slowly the mouth pulled away and Severus turned to look up at him with an amused smirk. "Words, Harry. If you want me to stop, you need to use actual words."

Harry shivered; that deep voice all by itself, full of barely-held control, could almost make him come all by itself. He took a deep breath and decided that more than feeling the sensation, he wanted to do that to Severus.

Muscles from years of flying, playing, and fighting hard allowed him to flip them both over, startling Severus. Taking a steadying breath, he bent to tentatively kiss the tip of the other man's erection. "Is this ok?"

A soft whimper was his only answer, as Harry nuzzled the slightly protruding hip bones. Harry licked and kissed a path down the stomach to the cock in front of him and gently touched it. The soft warm skin over unyielding hardness was amazing – like his own, yet not. He tightened his hand, stroking up and down, fascinated by the drop of pearly fluid gathering at the tip. Brain still cooperating by not making him think before acting, he gently licked at the moisture, savoring the salty, slightly yeasty taste. The moaned, "Oh Harry, yes," from Severus was all the encouragement he needed to open his mouth and run his tongue around the head.

Harry had no idea he would find doing this so exciting. He felt in control, exhilarated, and deeply satisfied with himself that he was touching someone, touching Severus, tasting him. He loved it. He was having some trouble breathing, but realized it was partially because he had been pushing his own erection into the bed and was moaning at the combined pleasures.

After a few minutes of stroking his hand up and down, using his lips to suck lightly, and gradually taking a bit more into his mouth, Harry changed his tactics. He pulled back, sucking hard, and swirled his tongue around the head. Careful to breathe through his nose, he took Severus in as deep as he could without choking.

Severus gasped in response, then pushed Harry away. "If you keep that up, I'll be through in no time," he panted. "Unless that's what you want, which is fine," he amended quickly.

Harry shook his head, licking his reddened lips in an unconsciously lascivious manner. "No, I want you inside me," he answered truthfully. Thinking about it made him realize how much he did want it, and he felt the muscles in his arse clench and release in response.

Severus' eyes glittered in the candlelight. "All right then. We'll take it slowly. Tell me if it hurts; it shouldn't and it doesn't have to," he added, opening a drawer in the bedside table to retrieve a small bottle.

Harry felt his heart race and a nervous sweat broke out over his body. Briefly his thoughts flashed back to Voldemort's sneering voice telling him that no one would want him. _No. Stop it,_ he told himself. _Severus wants me. Voldemort was wrong. I was wrong to believe him._

Severus noticed Harry's moment of fear and pulled him close. Again seeming to read Harry's mind, he whispered, "I do want you. Badly. You're wonderful, beautiful, and I can hardly believe you want to give me this gift, your body, for your first time. Are you sure?"

Harry gave him a shaky smile back. "Yes, I'm sure. I want to know. I want it to be you. And I want you to stop asking me; I won't change my mind. I promise."

The promise was sealed with a small, sweet kiss, a kiss Severus stole control of and turned into one of growing passion. Lips slid together, mouths opening, tongues tangling gently as he pulled Harry on top of him once again.

The hands holding his head let go and long fingers massaged his neck for a moment, then stroked up and down his back until Harry positively purred in delight at the sensation. Severus stroked down to his hips, to the smooth, firm thighs, and back up again to grasp his buttocks.

"Gods, you're perfect," he breathed into Harry's ear as his hands continued to stroke and rub the muscles underneath the smooth skin. "Just relax, and breathe."

On cue, the tension in Harry's body seeped out and he leaned forward, burying his head in Severus' neck. He liked this position, being on top; he didn't feel powerless or exposed or vulnerable. Or alone, as he had feared he might, face down into the mattress.

Soothing, warm fingers massaged him for a few minutes, before one hand crept between his legs to fondle his balls, stroking them through the loose skin. As Harry's thighs parted to make more room, gentle fingertips trailed down his spine, between his cheeks, and whispered over his opening in a brief touch. He sighed into Severus' shoulder and nuzzled his neck.

Deft fingers returned, covered with slick fluid, teasing at his entrance. Harry was surprised at how much pleasurable sensation he felt, from such an unexpected source. Without thinking, he pushed back slightly into the fingers, burrowing his head further into Severus and making soft little humming sounds.

One fingertip eased in and began to wiggle slightly, pushing against the tight muscle until Harry began to relax. It felt strange but not bad, especially as it began to stroke in and out at a slow pace, as Severus' other hand came up to soothe his back.

Kissing the forehead buried into his shoulder, Severus whispered, "Breathe, Harry. All right?"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak, then made a noise of surprise as the finger inside him pushed in further and brushed against something that made sparks flash against his eyelids. He felt more than heard the chuckle from the chest underneath him, before the probing digit swept across that spot again, and then again, making him shiver. It continued until Harry began to wiggle and twist his body as he moaned. "Oh, Gods, Severus..."

He whimpered as his lover withdrew his hand, then groaned as it came back again. Two fingers this time, slowly moving in and out, further and further until finally one hit that wonderful spot inside him. Harry pushed back against them, never minding the slight discomfort in favor of more of that feeling, more of those sparks running up his spine, more of that feeling of ecstasy. He didn't realize he was brokenly pleading, "More, more, please more," until Severus stopped moving his fingers.

"Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Severus prodded him until he lifted up, then reached a hand in between them to smooth more of the lubrication over his cock, and Harry's as well.

Severus positioned himself and cautiously rubbed the head of his erection against Harry's opening. Teasing and soothing him, wordlessly.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax. Harry kissed Severus' throat, distracting himself from what he knew was unreasonable fear, and brought their lips together for a languorous kiss.

Severus' cock eased into him, stretching him almost unbearably. Almost. It felt full, like it was too big, he was too tight to possibly stand it. It hurt. He was frozen in a moment of indescribable pain, not excruciating, but definitely strange.

"Breathe," Severus encouraged, stroking Harry's back. "Push out a little, as I push in."

It sounded strange but he complied, and could feel as the knots of tension in his body started to unravel. Inch by inch it eased in, stretching and pulling until Harry felt oddly full. But he also felt right, felt a sense of completion. Finally Severus was all the way in, obviously straining with the effort of going so slow.

Harry kissed his cheek. "Thank you. For everything. For being so careful."

Severus groaned and rocked upwards, moving in and out just a little. Just enough to hit that blissful spot inside.

Harry's eyes opened in shock as a universe of pleasure flooded his body, unexpected. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed in wonder. Tears filled his eyes as Severus thrust up into him and Harry began to rock back to meet him. The pain faded to nothing as the pleasure grew; jolts of sensation gathered speed as he rocked back and forth. When Severus' hand crept between them and began stroking his erection at the same pace, he knew he never wanted this feeling to end.

 _Just this, just this perfect feeling. Everything I ever wanted..._ Harry barely noticed as he whispered, "I love you," in Severus' ear.

Severus froze.

The older man's breath caught in his throat. _Of course he feels that_ , he told himself. _This is his first time. It's nothing to do with me._ Nonetheless, he found himself arguing, "You couldn't possibly love me. You don't even know me."

Shocked out of his bliss for a moment, Harry stopped moving. He laughed, giddy on pleasure and amused at being contradicted even in such an intimate tangle. "I know you just as well as you know me."

"It's only-," Severus pushed in again, deeply, making Harry rock back as his eyes closed in pleasure, "-sex."

Harry continued to move, following the cues of his body whine his eyes had difficulty focusing. But he insisted, "It isn't. Stop tormenting yourself and try to believe me: I love you."

Severus groaned from deep in his chest, picking up their rhythm again. "I can't pretend, Harry. Don't, don't say it." He clenched Harry's hips, inciting them both to move faster and faster, on the brink of losing control. His hand on Harry's cock was a blur between them as they rocked on the precipice of climax.

Harry forced the words out of his mouth, afraid he was about to lose the ability to speak, "I love you, I love you, I love you..." he cried as he started to spasm and come, his orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave, erasing everything else from consciousness.

Harry's body convulsing around and on top of his, the look of complete joy and bliss and yes, even love on the young man's face drove Severus over the edge as well. He didn't mean to say it, but as he relinquished control of his body, an answering "I love you, too" escaped his lips.

Harry drifted in a rapturous haze for a long time. He felt safe and comforted and cared for and loved for the first time, ever. Eventually he felt Severus slide out of his body, wrap him tight in strong arms, and kiss his cheek. He shifted and looked down into the deep, dark eyes, and saw satiated contentment but also a touch of fear.

Harry kissed Severus. "I know," he murmured sleepily. "You've saved me so many times. Let me to save you now. Let me love you."

Severus felt himself falling into a dark well, weightless and terrified. Somehow, though, he was willing to let go. "Yes," he whispered, returning Harry's kiss.

They fell asleep and dreamed of nothing, content, safe, and with no fear of nightmares.

~ end ~


End file.
